Who Am I? REWRITING
by mzenun
Summary: Spencer Reid values his mind; with an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and the ability to read twenty thousand words per minute, who wouldn't? But when he is struck with amnesia and loses all of his memories (thanks to a sadistic man with a weird fascination with Reid), Spencer is plunged into a world of confusion, anger, and self-pity, leaving him to wonder, "Who am I?"
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: My first ever fanfiction! So uh, it might be terrible (just like my actual writing). So I'm secretly hoping this doesn't become popular and get lots of hate for all my mistakes with this. Sorry I can't write flawlessly.**_

_**This book takes place somewhere between season seven and eight. **_

"John Daley! This is the FBI! Open up!" Agent Derek Morgan yells at the door, tense and ready for anything. When there isn't a reply or stirring inside, he kicks the door open. Immediately the FBI agents and SWAT members file inside, in stealthy formation with their guns in front of them.

The lights in the old house are off and though he would never admit or show it, Agent Dr. Spencer Reid is scared. He hates the dark, and wandering around a creaky old house belonging to a serial killer doesn't help much.

Echoes of the word "clear" ring throughout the house. Daley has vanished. Seeing no threat in the house anymore, the team from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit puts their guns away and meet to discuss what should be done next.

"He knew we were onto him," Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner says.

"He isn't exactly rich, so where would he go?" The question comes from Agent Emily Prentiss. She sweeps her gaze around the small circle, her dark brown hair swaying slightly.

"He could've gone to his last dump site," Morgan chimes in.

"His last kill isn't special to him, he wouldn't go there," Hotch dismisses the idea.

"Then which kill is special to him?" Agent Jennifer Jareau, most commonly referred to as "JJ", asks. A lock of her blonde hair escapes from its place behind her ear, but she ignores it.

There is a pause before Agent David Rossi says, "His first."

"Where was the body of the first victim found?" Prentiss asks no one in particular. All eyes glance over to Reid, the only member of the team containing an eidetic memory.

"Uh, six thirty-five North Adath street," the youngest member of the team finally speaks up.

"Got it, let's go," Hotch says as he's already almost out the front door. Immediately, the rest of the team follows.

They all pile inside the FBI's black Chevrolet SUV's and rush to their destination. The drive is short, but seems to take forever, because the team doesn't know how much time they have; they don't know when Daley left.

When they arrive, they decide to go for a more stealthy approach this time. The door is unlocked because the person who owns it is now dead, so they open it and file in silently, using hand gestures to communicate.

Everyone is extra careful not to be separated from their partner. Daley is a serial killer who beats his victims for days before finally carving the letter 'X' on his or her stomach antimortem and strangling them with his bare hands. The media has given him the nickname of "The Xterminator", as cheesy as that sounds.

Hotch and Morgan take the lead, pointing their guns at every new door or hallway they approach. Prentiss and JJ follow them, guns always pointing straight ahead, Rossi following them. And Reid trails behind them, flanked by two SWAT members. His gun is aimed straight ahead, too.

The sweep of this house is a dead-end, too. Defeated, the BAU team members go into the living room to regroup and organize their thoughts.

"I don't get it, the profile says he should be here," Rossi thinks aloud.

"Maybe your profile is wrong," Detective LaRoe says with hostility. The detective has been supportive and cooperative throughout the entire investigation, but he's tired of storming into empty houses, not to mention that a sadistic serial killer is still on the loose. But nevertheless, his comment earns him a slight glare from Agent Hotchner.

"With all due respect, Detective, our profile is correct." He notices something on the floor nearly hidden behind a bookcase on the other side of the room. Picking it up, he adds, "And this proves it. Daley's journal. He was here." He flips it open. "He documented everything he did to his victims."

LaRoe takes the journal, keeping it on the same page. After reading one sentence, which describes the torture Cassie Rivers endured, he breathes, "My God..."

"Reid, could you read this?" Hotch hands Reid the journal, knowing his speed-reading will be helpful right now. He's seen him read an entire novel in ten minutes once. Plus, his eidetic memory means he will remember every word down to the slant of the letters.

Reid takes the journal and walks over to the reclining chair, where he sits down stiffly and continues to read, already absorbed in the text.

"Okay, so according to the profile, Daley should have gone here," Hotch begins the group's train of thought.

"Which he did," Prentiss finishes the sentence.

"But where would he go after stopping here? Since he obviously knew we would figure it out and come here, so he had to move again, but where?" Morgan asks. "This guy is organized and meticulous."

"What if he's still here?" Rossi suggests.

"We already checked the house though," Prentiss reminds him.

"That's right; we checked the house, but not the yard."

"If there's nowhere else for him to go, he might just hide outside and wait for us to leave," JJ expands on Rossi's thought.

"Well tough luck for him then, because I'm not leaving until I find this son of a b*tch!" Morgan's determined spirit radiates off of him with a hint of anger.

"Let's check the grounds," Hotch commands. The SWAT members follow them out the back door, but the police officers stay behind with Reid.

The room is awkward for the police officers because Reid isn't saying anything and if they said anything, they would feel as though they're being watched. The awkward silence is so thick, you could rip out chunks of the air.

Finally, Detective LaRoe breaks it. "Anyone want some coffee?"

Three of the officers go into the kitchen with him to make some coffee, thankful for the distraction. This leaves one officer and Reid alone in the living room.

After a while, the officer gets bored of waiting around so he gets up to check around the house for anything else Daley might've left behind. He doesn't really think he will find anything, but he doesn't like the awkwardness in the room, so he used this as an excuse to leave.

Reid is still completely zoned out while reading. He goes into another world when he reads. He's almost done with the journal, too. He is so focused on the journal, he doesn't hear the front door opening or the soft footsteps around the room, getting closer to him. This is all just background noise to him.

And he certainly doesn't expect the sudden blow to his head and the fading blackness following it.


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan grunts as he checks behind yet another bush that shows no luck. The team, excluding Reid, has been combing through this yard for what seems like forever.

"Hotch, there's nothing here, we've gone through this place three times," the dark-skinned agent appears to be talking to himself, until a sigh comes back with a bit of static.

"I know. Alright, everybody back in the house. We have to figure out where to look next," Hotch's exasperated tone of voice isn't felt alone; all the agents are irritated and just want to catch this guy and go home.

Hotch enters the house first. "Let's see what Reid has found in the journal." To his surprise, when he walks into the living room, he isn't there.

"Where's Dr. Reid?"

LaRoe pauses with a confused expression before asking, "He's not with you?"

The BAU team members all look at LaRoe, panicked expressions crossing their faces, all except Hotch, though, who rarely shows emotion.

"What." Morgan's question comes out more like a statement, commanding LaRoe to explain.

"About twenty minutes ago he left to join you guys, right?" LaRoe is starting to panic himself.

"No, he didn't!" Morgan raises his voice, the fear and anger swirling around inside him and attacking his voice.

"Morgan, calm down," Hotch warns, then focuses back on LaRoe. "You said he left?"

"Uh, my men and I went into the kitchen for coffee. When we came back he was gone, we figured he finished reading and joined you guys. He was almost done when we left."

"So you didn't radio in and check? Isn't it important to know where all our team members are at any given time?" Morgan lectures the detective, not caring about anything except where his little brother-like friend is.

"_Morgan,"_ Hotch warns him of his temper again.

"Hotch, Reid is _missing. _If we would've known about this sooner, we might have been able to track this guy down, but it's been _half an hour._ This guy could be anywhere by now!"

The room goes silent. The team members, all except Rossi, share the same memory, the one that made this seem like deja vu.

When Reid was kidnapped by Tobias Hankel.

It took him years to actually recover from that experience. He suffered PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) for a long time and was addicted to diluadid for a while.

The last thing his friends want is for him to have to go through that again. Because this time, if he makes it out alive, he might never be the same again.

Rossi looks around at his team members and their uncomfortable shifts and shuffles. JJ doesn't take her eyes off the floor. As confused as he is about their behavior, he ignores it; this isn't the time to ask.

"What do we do now?" Emily asks no one in particular.

"We find Reid," Hotch answers.

"But how?" LaRoe asks.

"We don't stop working until we find him," Morgan answers. "At least _I _won't. Not until Reid is safe and we catch this son of a b*tch!"

"What if Rei-"

"We don't have time for 'what if's'," Hotch interrupts JJ, knowing what she was going to ask. "And we don't have time for those thoughts."

"Aaron," Rossi begins, unable to let the weird behavior go unnoticed. "I think it's obvious that something like this has happened before. It doesn't take a profiler to know that much. In order for us all to help to the best of our ability, myself and the detectives included, we need to know what this instance is."

The hem of her shirt suddenly looked very interesting to JJ.

Hotch weighs the decision to share the experience. "A few years ago, we had a case in Atlanta, Georgia. A man would dial nine-one-one from the victims' houses before the murders and tell operators he was going to kill them and why, his explanation being a passage from the Bible. He was on a mission to kill 'sinners'. We thought we had a witness and I sent Reid and JJ to ask him about the instance.

"Reid realized our 'witness' was the unsub, but couldn't call to tell us because there was no cell service, so they went after him themselves. They split up. Reid ran into the cornfield to catch him. The unsub, Tobias Hankel, took him.

"For two days, we could do nothing but watch as our teammate was beaten and killed right before our eyes. We finally found out where he was from a clue Reid gave us. We rushed over there and found him alive, but badly beaten and shook up. In those two days, he was beaten, forced to choose which innocent civilians to die, which one of his team members dies, had a gun loaded and pointed in his face numerous times, drugged with dilaudid, killed, revived, and forced to dig his own grave. The psychological effects of those days never left him, and he started to follow in Hankel's footsteps by staying addicted to dilaudid for months."

The silence from everyone else stretches on. Rossi has no idea how to respond to that, and neither do the officers.

JJ didn't look up once the whole time, she still blames herself for splitting up, despite what Reid told her when they found him. Now everyone knows why JJ is acting so guilty.

Hotch finishes with, "So now you know what the worst two days of Reid's life were."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Reid wakes up in a confused daze. Last thing he remembers is reading John Daley's journal. He looks around and takes in his current situation. It appears as though he isn't in a place at all. Everything is dark and there aren't any windows or doors, at least that he knows of.

He regains control over his body and tries to move but finds that he is tied up. _Of course, _he thinks miserably. _Wait...are these...my own handcuffs? Well, the irony is not lost on me. _

He sits in the wooden chair with his hands cuffed to the arms and his legs restrained by the rope that wraps around the chair legs alone in the dark, unknown place.

His head throbs in his right side and he begins to get drowsy.

A sudden light temporarily blinds him before he makes out a silhouetted figure.

"Good morning, sunshine." The voice is deep and makes Reid's spine tingle.

He manages to open his mouth and make it move, despite his drowsiness. "Wh-who are you?" His eyelids are heavy and he fights to keep them open.

The figure approaches him and in the light, Reid recognizes the face of John Daley. "I guess you can say I'm your worst nightmare," he pauses before adding, "But I'm not." Daley crouches down to eye level with Reid and whispers, "I'm much worse."

The darkness fades into Reid's vision, but he forces his eyes open. His vision blurs in and out. "Wha...?"

"Shh….You should sleep now, Spencer." Daley walks back toward the door and as he closes it, adds, "We can have fun later."

The door slams and Reid is left in the dark alone again. He finally gives up and closes his eyes shortly before he blacks out.


	3. Chapter 3

"Reid's smart; he'll think of something. In the meantime, we need to work around the clock in order to find him." Hotch tends to dive into his work in order to distract himself from a tough time, and this was one of those times.

"Detective, you're a witness. Prentiss, give him a cognitive interview. JJ and Morgan, search the perimeter for evidence. Rossi, you and I will go over the profile and narrow down the possible geographical area."

Everyone follows the command and splits up with their partners.

Prentiss guides Detective LaRoe into the kitchen and gestures for him to sit down while she does the same.

"Agent Prentiss, I don't think this will help; I wasn't even in the room when Dr. Reid was taken. H*ll, I didn't even know he was missing!"

"It doesn't matter, Detective, every little detail is helpful right now." Emily is careful to stay calm, she needs him relaxed and focused for the interview.

"Okay," LaRoe sighs.

Emily nods and begins the interview. "Close your eyes." The detective does as he's told. "Now...you said you went into the kitchen for coffee?"

"Yes, I already said that." LaRoe is getting irritated; he didn't want to do this interview in the first place and having to repeat himself is a personal pet peeve.

"Okay, just relax. You went into the kitchen for coffee, what happened next?"

"Nothing, we came back and he was gone."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. Go back to the kitchen. You're drinking coffee with your buddies; what do you hear?"

"Besides our chatter? Nothing." LaRoe says after thinking about it halfheartedly.

"Think beyond that. In the living room, what did you hear?" Emily calmly clarifies.

He decides to just go along with it, since he obviously isn't getting out of it. After thinking for a moment, he finally says, "The slight creak of the door, some faint footsteps, a soft thud, a sort of dragging sound, and the door closing."

A look of realization crosses his face. "Oh my God...I knew he was in trouble and I did nothing. I just sat there and laughed it up without a care in the world," he exaggerates. He was actually quite stressed at that moment because of the investigation and failed attempts at the arrest.

"No, Detective. you didn't know that at the time. You either didn't hear it or didn't think anything of it." Emily lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder before she gets up and walks into the other room to tell Hotch about the interview.

Morgan squats down and carefully combs the dirt with his eyes. So far, he and JJ hadn't had any luck investigating the premises. They decided to start looking outside first because it was getting crowded inside.

"I think I got something," JJ mumbles after she parts some weeds to reveal a mark in the dirt. Morgan walks over to her and gets a closer look.

"Looks like a footprint," Morgan says.

"Or what's left of one," JJ finishes for him.

"Well, we'll see what Garcia can find." A sudden burst of light explodes from his phone for a split second as he takes a picture of the half-print in what little light the moon offers.

His phone immediately starts ringing. "Speaking of which..." He answers the call with a, "Hey, Baby Girl, whatcha got for me?"

"That half print of a shoe you sent me? It's size ten in men, and the tread is from an athletic equipment brand called Sports Ware," she proudly proclaims. "But why did you need me to find that out for you? I thought you guys left to make the arrest an hour ago?"

"We did. And Daley wasn't there. So we went to the house where the first victim was found, and it turned up empty again."

"Oh gosh, you guys have to keep me up to date on all of this!" She says with mock stern.

"Up to date? As of right now, a serial killer who has the upper hand is on the loose and Reid's missing."

There is silence on the other end of the call.

"Penelope?"

"Oh, God...Oh, God...Not again...This can't happen! Not again!" Her voice sort of dies off at the end, the entire sentence is a staircase: raising one pitch higher each phrase, the tears threatening to fall freely.

"Penelope, I know, I know. We're looking." Morgan tries to soothe her, instantly regretting alarming her.

When Reid was taken by Tobias, Garcia had seen more video of Reid's torture than any other member of the team, excluding Agent Jason Gideon, who vanished into thin air not long after.

All those horrible clips of Tobias punching and slapping him around, of Reid crying and begging for his life, and his last desperate gasps of air right before he died is all she could think about. A tear escapes from her left eye.

"Find him. Bring our little genius home." She hangs up before she lets loose a waterfall of tears. Garcia may not be extremely close to Reid, but this team is her family, since she never really had one. Both her parents died when she was young. This team is her world, and she would do anything for them.

Morgan puts his phone back in his pocket and continues to look around the bushes and house.

"Just admit it," JJ interrupts the silence.

"What?" Morgan looks up at her.

"Just admit you still blame me for the first time." After a moment's silence, she adds, "I still do."

"JJ, Reid told you he didn't blame you at all."

"I know, but I do. But what do you think? You never said whether you did or didn't blame me the first time."

"You were there and he wasn't, that's the truth."

"I want an opinion."

"The truth_ is_ my opinion." With that, they both drop the subject and continue to work.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Reid wakes up in a fuzzy spinning reality. He had been blacking in and out all day. The soft glow from the rising sun offers enough light to see.

He can vaguely make out his surroundings. Contrary to what he believed before, there is a small window appearing to have thick glass near the ceiling, and he already learned there is a door. But other than that and the occupied chair, the walls and floor are bare.

His head is spinning and he still feels drowsy, despite the hours of blackouts and sleep.

He licks his lips and uses as much force as he can muster to yell, "Hello? Can anybody hear me?" The words came out slurred, though.

The answer to his question is dead silence, leaving him alone with his thoughts. _Will I get out of this alive? What is going to happen to me? Where am I?_

His cluttered thoughts repeat themselves over and over again for hours, until the sun is high up in the blue sky.

Finally, the door creaks open and a head topped with groomed dark brown hair pops out from behind it. "Oh, good, you're awake!" He walks toward Reid. "You ready?"

Reid fights to hold his head up; his neck feels as thin as a toothpick. "For...for what?" He struggles to move his mouth properly.

"Don't you remember yesterday? I said we're going to have fun." Despite the words, only pure sadistic evil dances in his emerald eyes. "Well, _I _am, at least."


	4. Chapter 4

Reid looks up at Daley and tries to show as much strength as he can, but it isn't easy; he barely has enough strength to stay awake, much less hold his head up.

"Fun?"

"Exactly. Shall we begin?"

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"I wanna kill this guy myself!" Morgan angrily slams the door as he storms off, leaving only Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and Emily.

Nobody follows him; the team knows he needs to cool off alone.

Everybody is exhausted, but knows even if they try to sleep, they won't be successful. They are already awake in a nightmare.

The team stares after him until Hotch shifts their focus back to him. "There's definitely something we missed in the profile."

"Daley's first victim was his mother. This was because she was abusive towards him after her second son died." Emily begins to state what they already know.

"The trigger that led to her murder was his girlfriend leaving, who he became dependent upon. When she left, he snapped," JJ gives the simplified explanation.

"And with this mom gone, he took his anger out on anyone available. The women were surrogates for his mom, and the men were surrogates for his dad, who left them when he was seven," Rossi says.

"Wait, go back." Hotch thinks aloud. "His brother died of suffocation, right?"

"His mother stated he suffocated from rolling onto his stomach in his sleep," JJ reminded him.

"The police reports mentioned a baby carrier, but nothing of a crib. Only two small beds; one for John and one for his mother, and Miss Daley said all members of the family slept alone."

The room goes silent as realization sinks in.

"So Debra Daley wasn't his first kill," Rossi voices their thoughts.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Before we start playing games, I thought we'd talk a little. Sound good?" Daley sits across from Reid in his own chair, but unlike Reid, he isn't cuffed and tied.

Reid tries to focus as best he can, but his vision is blurring at random times and he's still drowsy. His head still hurts and all he wants to do is sleep in his own bed. He nods his head, but it takes a great amount of effort. _I'm useless. I can barely move my head. Pathetic._

"So..._Doctor_ Spencer Reid," he emphasizes 'doctor', mocking the word. "How are you?"

Reid hangs his head and juts out his bottom jaw, but continues to look at Daley, a glare obviously in his eyes.

"Oh, right," he laughs. "Now I bet you're wondering how I know your name. Now that's an easy question. See, there's this little thing called the internet, and I've done my fair amount of research...enough to know about dear old Mom." He smiles, but there is no trace of friendliness anywhere on his face, only mockery.

Reid immediately jerks his head up and opens his eyes, fighting the drowsiness. "Don't you _dare_ touch her!"

"Oh, I think I've struck a nerve. You're quite fiesty, Doctor Reid." He laughs again before continuing. "Relax, I won't go near her. She's all the way in Nevada, that would be way too much effort for such a _meaningless_ kill." Reid grits his teeth. "Besides, she's done nothing to me."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Reid snarls.

Daley gapes his mouth and exaggerates his offense as he mocks it. "I'm not a monster." He snickers after saying that.

"Then what have I done to you?" The drowsiness is going away slightly, but is still present.

"Hmm, let me think...nothing," he says after tapping his chin with his index finger and looking up simultaneously.

"Then why did you take me?"

"'Because, Spencer," he leans in. "You were easy prey. Always have been."

Reid opens his mouth as if he were going to protest, but then closes it.

"Uh huh. You know it, too. Let's take a stroll down memory lane." He leans back and puts his hands on the back of his neck, interlacing his fingers.

Reid looks down at the floor. He tries his best to shove the memories of the rough times in his childhood, and even adulthood, in the back of his mind.

"Hmm, where to start...well, there's your dad leaving you and your mom alone, leaving you to deal with her problems alone a-"

"It's not her fault! She tried. She tried..." The young man fights back tears at the memories of his mother's episodes.

"Then you had to put up with _that_ for another eight years," he continues as if Reid had never interrupted.

Meanwhile, the genius just keeps mumbling, "She tried...she tried...she tried..."

Daley continues the psychological torture all through his childhood and teenage years, including the instance in high school where the football team had stripped him naked and tied him to the goal post while the entire school stared at him.

"Oh, and remember when that psycho on drugs took you for a few days? What was that guy's name? Toby Hinkle? Ah, wait, I got it! Tobias Hankel!" He straightens up and observes Reid's reaction to the name.

Reid stiffens and doesn't dare look up. "I don't know what you're talking about," is all he says.

"Oh, come on, Spencer! Don't give me that! I read up on you, remember? I know about your little eidetic memory."

Reid is quiet which makes Daley doubt he'll answer. "I'm too tired to talk right now, I need to sleep," is the only response Reid gives.

Daley studies him for a moment. "Alright, fine. We'll talk later." He gets up and moves the chair into a corner far away from Reid. Before slipping out the door, he adds, "Sweet dreams, Spencer."


	5. Chapter 5

Hotch looks around at his teammates and their exhausted postures. It has been exactly one day since Reid's abduction, and a full twenty-four hours since any of them had gotten any sleep.

JJ looked the worst of them all. Her hair was ruffled, her shoulders slouched, and her eyes red and puffy. Emily had asked her if she had been crying, but JJ had said she wasn't.

_She shouldn't be feeling so guilty, she wasn't even anywhere near him this time. She was with us. She's as much to blame as we are, _Emily thinks after glancing over to her.

"Okay, I know it'll be hard, but you all need sleep. At least _try _to get a few hours of rest," Hotch says after setting down some files.

"Hotch, I am _not _going to rest," Morgan says aggressively.

"You haven't slept in over twenty-four hours, you-"

"I don't care. I'm not resting until we find Reid."

Hotch stares at the defiant agent. "That's an order." He doesn't like playing bad guy, but he knows he has to think about his team and their health.

Morgan clenches his jaw and stares at his boss before he gets up and walks upstairs without another word.

The rest of the team silently files upstairs to join him. There are only three bed rooms; one is the master bedroom, one is a children's room, and one is the guest bedroom.

JJ and Emily walk into the guest bedroom, but find Morgan sitting on the bed, his face in his hands. He either didn't hear them approaching, or doesn't care.

"Uh..." Emily starts.

Morgan looks up expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

"We hate to kick you out, but...there are two of us and one of you."

"I get it. Okay, consider me gone." Morgan gets up and walks out of the guest bedroom and into the children's.

Hotch and Rossi walk into the master bedroom. There is only one bed, and they don't know what to do about that.

They glance between each other and the single bed awkwardly until Hotch finally offers to sleep on the floor.

Morgan lay on a child-sized bed with his feet barely on, wide awake. Now that all the distractions of voices and human interaction are gone, it's only his frightening thoughts left to keep him company.

_What if he's already dead?_

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Reid wakes up and immediately sees the face of none other than John Daley in the dim light of the sunrise. The unexpected silent greeting makes him jump.

"You know you mumble in your sleep?" Daley asks him casually.

"I guess sometimes I might..." His head is still throbbing and he's still a bit drowsy, but it has subsided for the most part.

"You kept saying something about killing. Maybe little Spencer has a dark side after all," he smiles mischievously.

"I will _never _be _anything_ like you," Reid spits.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." He mocks insult before continuing. "Anyways, I think it's about time we get down to business."

"You mean continue our talk?"

"Um, nah. I think it's time for the party games."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Morgan traces the patterns in the ceiling with his eyes for the millionth time. The light from the sunrise offers more light with each minute, but no one is moving yet. He imagines everyone else was sleeping, but he didn't get an ounce of sleep. He's exhausted, but doesn't dare sleep. If he does, then he'll feel as though he's giving up on Reid.

The whole night, images of the lifeless body of Reid bleeding on cold concrete, his eyes glazed over and staring right at him.

Morgan can't sit still any longer. He gets up and slowly walks down the stairs, careful not to make any creaks that might wake his teammates up.

He sits down at the kitchen table and picks up the files from last night, looking through them yet again.

After looking through the files so much, he practically memorized the words, he sets them down and closes his eyes to think about it all without seeing it.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Morgan turns around to see JJ standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

He sighs and shakes his head. "Of course not." He pauses before adding, "Why are _you _up?"

She sighs and sits down across from him. "I just keep imagining...what if this time...you know."

"I know...but for his benefit we shouldn't think like that," he tries to soothe her, but feels guilty because he had been having those thoughts all night.

"I know, but I can't help it. This might be worse than last time. If I had stayed behind a-"

"Hey, don't do that to yourself. This isn't your fault.," Morgan softly says.

JJ looks down at the tabletop and gives a small nod.

"Well, we're up. Why don't we do something useful?" Morgan hands JJ half the files he had been looking at.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"This game is called 'Scream'," Daley says as he pulls out a long metal rod from behind his back.

Reid gulps. "Wh-when does the game end?"

"When I decide to stop." He prods Reid in his left side, and immediately an intense pain shoots through his body, making him howl in pain.

When he takes it away from his body, Reid looks up at him and whimpers, "Why are you doing this?"

Daley shrugs and says, "Because I can," before prodding him again.

Reid shrieks again and tries to get as far away from the rod as possible, but the cuffs and ropes prevent him from moving. "Stop! Please!"

The pleas just make Daley tilt his head curiously.

He prods his stomach again and shocks him once more.

"Hey, Spencer! That Tobias guy didn't know the fun he could've had, but me, I know exactly what to do."


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'm so glad you guys love this fanfic so far! I've had fun writing it...wait, not like that. That sounds cruel. I feel bad for Reid, but this must be done! You'll see. There's a reason for everything I write, when I write it, and how much of an explanation I give...or, how much detail I go into. Don't kill me yet. :c**_

"Hmm...you're boring me, Spencer," Daley says as he puts the rod away and pulls the chair in front of Reid before sitting in it.

Spencer just sits there with his head low, panting. His sweater vest is off and his button-down shirt is open, exposing the many burns he now has.

Daley observes him for quite some time before saying, "You tired?"

Spencer keeps his head low, but asks, "What?" His question dies off at the end, letting go into a gasp; he is still out of breath from all the screaming.

"You seem tired." He tilts his head. "Or sad. I don't know. Talk to me, Spencer."

Spencer closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, trying to ignore him.

"What's the matter? Don't like me?" Daley persists.

Without moving his head, Spencer glares at the sadistic man, half of his pupils covered up from his eyelid.

"Ohh, _that's _what it is! You don't like me! Well, Spencer, that's not how friends feel about each other." He shakes his finger at him, scolding him.

"We are _not _friends," Spencer growls.

"Oh, stop lying! I invited you to my birthday party and you came, s-"

"You did not invite me, nor did I want to attend. You _took _me," Spencer corrects him.

"So you're saying you're not having fun?" he asks him, faking hurt. "But, it's my birthday, Spencer."

Spencer continues to ignore him, knowing the answer to his question, but not daring to answer.

"Oh. I see," he says coldly before getting up and moving the chair back. "Let's see if you still aren't having fun after a few more games."

Spencer's head flings up, terror shining in his big, brown eyes. "No, I _am _having fun! I-I loved that last game! Please!" He squirms in his chair prison desperately.

"No. It's too late, Spencer. You hurt my feelings. I spent months planning my perfect party and to have you think that is unforgivable. How inconsiderate."

"No! John! Don't! _Please!_"

Daley grabs a metal baseball bat and starts slowly walking toward Spencer. "I think we should skip ahead to the piñata."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Morgan grunts loudly and claws at his head, but remembers there's no hair there. "We aren't getting _anywhere!"_

The other team members stare at him, not too shocked about his outburst. Morgan always gets attached to cases.

Hotch sends him a warning look.

Morgan sighs at the gesture and mumbles, "I need some air."

He walks outside and squints at the sun high in the sky. He sits down on the old wooden steps leading up to the front door and lets his arms rest on his thighs, his hands hanging out in front of him, his eyes staring straight.

He sighs. "Reid...fight as long as you can." If only Reid could hear him, then he would be able to help him, find him.

He takes his gaze off the small group of trees across the street and looks around the yard. _That son of a b*tch was right here. Right here. And I missed him. Now Reid has to pay for it._

Suddenly, he notices something he didn't before. He gets up and walks over to it. He squats down to investigate it more, and wonders how they possibly could have missed it.

It's a folded up half-piece of paper. He unfolds it to see what's on it. _It's only slightly dirty...how'd we miss it?_ His eyes widen and he grits his teeth as realization hits him.

He storms inside and slams the paper on the kitchen table, where the rest of the team are sitting, and ignores their shocked and confused faces at this extreme outburst.

"THAT SON OF A B*TCH CAME BACK!"

Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and Emily look around at each other with shocked expressions.

"What is that?" Hotch asks.

Emily takes the paper and unfolds it. She reads aloud, "Happy birthday to me! At least one of you decided to join the party. We're having loads of fun without you! Too bad there's much more blood than I thought. Oh well, wish you were here! Signed, John and Spencer."

JJ and Emily's eyes widen in horror while Morgan's narrow in fury. Hotch closes his eyes and bows his head a little, and Rossi sighs. Another little piece of paper falls out.

On the table falls a picture of Reid, tied up and bloody, with his head low and the burns clearly shown, in front of a dark, bare wall.

Emily gags a little and JJ runs outside to vomit. Morgan squeezes his eyes shut tight. None of them will never forget that image. And it might be the last time they ever see Reid.

"This is some kind of sick postcard," Hotch growls, diving right into business to try to ignore his emotions.

The picture lies on the middle of the table, haunting them. This image will scar them for life, and be the source of their nightmares, they know. They all share one thought that none of them voice: _Spencer is probably dead._

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Spencer tenses his body and looks up at Daley with pleading eyes. "Please..."

Daley stops in front of him and raises the bat threateningly, loving the fear that radiates off of his victim. "Ah, I love the smell of fear in the morning!" Even though he knows it's not morning, he sighs happily. "Even more than the smell of death."

"You don't have to do this..." Spencer whines desperately.

Daley roars at him, "No, Spencer, I do! Because some people are inconsiderate and don't care how much effort I put into having a good birthday for once!"

"I-I can make your birthday special! I ca-"

"Don't worry about it. Once I bust open the piñata, my birthday will be like no one else's." He grins and sadistic pleasure burn in his piercing green eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Daley brings the bat down swiftly, but a quick, "Wait!" from Spencer makes him move the bat at the last second, causing it to hit the floor. A loud clang rings throughout the room.

"What is it now!?" Daley says with clear irritation.

"Uh...I..." Spencer's mind races to come up with something - _anything -_ that could possibly make Daley stop from hitting him. "You didn't finish the party games!" he desperately exclaims.

Daley sighs and lowers the bat. "I don't care about the party games anymore, Spencer. You're not enjoying this party. It's half yours, you know."

Spencer is utterly shocked. Of all the things he expected Daley to say, that was not one of them. "Wh-what?"

"I know about your childhood, Spencer. You didn't exactly have huge birthday parties. Actually, no one really cared except your mom and your dad, before he left, of course."

Spencer pauses a minute before asking a simple question, "So?"

"So, neither did I. I relate to you, Spencer. I thought we understood each other, that we were the same."

"There are countless differences between you and myself. The biggest one you seem to have forgotten is that you murder people, and I catch people like you. Unlike you, I didn't let my past ruin my future. I _made _something of myself. Something I am proud of."

Daley stares curiously at him for a few minutes, thinking about what he said. After Spencer bows his head, waiting for the pain to come, Daley says, "You're right."

Spencer slowly looks up at him, careful to make small movements.

"I guess I did, didn't I? But that isn't my fault. What happened to me...even though my dad liked to blame me when he came home drunk and decided to hit me around like a punching bag, it's not my fault. It's...my dad's, first off...and, my mom's, for not doing a d*mn thing! If only I could have killed him before the car accident did. Then I would have made sure he suffered just as much as I did all those years," Daley growls.

Spencer processes this; he knew Daley was abused, but he didn't expect Daley to vent to _him._ "So why are you taking your anger out on me, if I remind you of yourself?"

Daley opens his mouth as though he is going to say something, but no words come out. For the first time since Reid's kidnapping, he doesn't know what to say.

"Please let me go...I'm all my mother has..." Spencer lets out a tear at the thought of his mom hearing the words, 'Your son is dead'.

In response, Daley turns around and walks to the door, dragging the metal bat with him. As quick as he entered, he slips out the door silently, leaving both Spencer and John to their own scary imaginations.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"As much as it kills me, I think we need to look at the picture closer. It could have a clue as to where he is," Emily suggests slowly as she flips over the picture in the middle of the table, which was turned over because none of them could look at it any longer.

As soon as the side with Reid is faced up, JJ closes her eyes tightly and looks away, the memories from his last kidnapping haunting her. _At least Tobias had video of him so we knew he was still alive..._

The team members scan every inch of the picture except Reid himself. They focus on his surroundings, and try to ignore his beaten image.

"This is hopeless! There's no window or anything! It's just a plain cement wall!" Morgan exclaims in frustration.

Hotch's phone rings and he leaves the room to talk.

The four remaining team members look around at each other, hoping it's any word about Reid. Moments later, Hotch rushes back in.

"They found Reid, c'mon!" He runs out the door and into the FBI van they drove here. The team follows quickly, but fears Reid is dead.

As soon as the car is on the road, JJ asks, "Is he alive?" Emily, Morgan, and Rossi look to Hotch expectantly, willing him to say he is.

"The EMT's said he has a pulse, but he's unconcious." They breathe a sigh of relief. Unconcious is definitely better than dead.

The drive seems to linger forever. The hospital is only about ten minutes away, but when every second counts, a minute feels like an eternity.

They finally arrive and all file through the hopsital entrance door and immediately go towards the front desk.

"May I help you?" The young blonde at the desk sounds like she would rather be anywhere else but there.

"We're here to see Spencer Reid," JJ says.

She types in his name and reads a paragraph before saying in a dull tone, "Visitors for that patient are not allowed at this time." She turns her back on them, expecting them to go away.

Hotch quickly pulls out his FBI badge and says, "He's a federal agent."

The woman straightens up in her chair a little when he pulls out the badge, and swiftly types some more into her computer. "Third floor, room 311," she says.

"Thank you," Hotch mumbles as he walks away as quickly as possible, the rest of the team trailing behind him.

When they finally get out of the elevator, they search for his room number. It's just a few doors down from the one across the elevator.

They rush into the room, all gathering around Reid's side. He looks so weak, laying in the hospital bed unconcious, with all sorts of tubes protruding him. A little bit of dried blood is still on him. His head is bandaged, blood staining it.

At this sight, JJ opens her mouth then places her hand over it. Emily's mouth gapes slightly. Morgan's teeth clench, vowing revenge on Daley.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

The team fell asleep in Reid's hospital room. Knowing he's alive, they were finally able to sleep. Emily wakes up to a nurse softly shaking her. "He's waking up." She immediately bolts up and wakes everyone else, telling them the same thing.

Reid opens his eyes to see them peering at him worriedly. He jumps a little, faintly remembering how this kind of greeting has happened before. They immediately apologize.

Looking around and recognizing where he is, he says to them, "No, it's not you. I'm sorry for being startled."

JJ rubs his arm sympathetically and softly says, "It's okay, Spence. You're okay now. We're here for you."

Spencer awkwardly smiles at her and says, "Thanks...but, uh...who are all of you?"


	8. Chapter 8

_**Ugh, I've been coughing and my throat feels raw. But here's the next chapter, please don't get mad at me if you don't like this one. :c**_

JJ freezes. The rest of the team stiffens with alarm. Reid's expression is one of awkwardness and confusion. Everyone is silent.

JJ forces herself to break it.

"Wh-what?" She swallows, preparing herself for more tragedy.

"I don't know any of you..." Reid trails off. "What are you doing here?"

A nurse walks into the room, looking down at the clipboard with a small stack of papers that is clutched in her left hand, scribbling on the top paper with her right.

She looks up and smiles. "Oh, you're awake." She notices the panicked looks on the visitors' faces and her smile drops a little. She opens her mouth to ask if something's wrong, but is cut off by Reid.

"Do _you_ know them?" he asks her, glancing toward the agents gathered around him.

Immediately the nurse's smile is gone. "I'm afraid Dr. Reid isn't allowed visitors at this time," she says, addressing the team and ushering them out the door before closing the blinds on all the windows.

They try to protest and question her, but the only thing she says is, "You will have to come back later."

JJ, Emily, Hotch, and Rossi sit in the waiting room. Morgan excuses himself outside to make a call.

Garcia picks up the phone halfway through the first ring. "What happened?"

"We found him," he tells her bluntly.

"And?" she impatiently asks.

"He's alive."

She immediately lets out a sigh of relief.

"But..."

"But? But? No, there is no 'but'! You found him, he's alive, he's okay. We're gonna catch this son of a b*tch and move on." She doesn't want to hear that anything had happened to Reid and she will not let herself think such a thing.

"Garcia...something's wrong." Morgan doesn't want to dance around this with her. She's part of the team and deserves to know.

She is silent for a moment.

"Garcia?"

"What...what do you mean? He's alive and okay, isn't he?" She starts to tear up, imagining Reid missing limbs, alive but tortured.

"I don't really know...we came to visit him, and he woke up. But then he asked us who we were...He doesn't remember us."

"But...no, that can't be! He remembers everything! He's...he's just messing with you guys. He has to be."

"I'm sure we'll know the answer to that once the doctors assess him. A nurse made us leave the room."

"I'm coming out there." The determination in her voice was undeniable.

It took almost twenty minutes for him to persuade her to stay in Quantico.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"That's impossible!" JJ exclaims, obviously in denial.

The nurse had come back a few hours later and led them to the hallway outside the room Reid is staying.

JJ's outburst was her response to, "Upon further tests, the doctors believe that Dr. Reid has dissociative amnesia."

"I'm sorry," the nurse shakes her head. "But he displays all the symptoms. And judging by his injuries, he went through some sort of traumatic event, which can cause this type of amnesia."

The five of them were speechless, still processing this information.

"You said he's an FBI agent?" she suddenly asks.

"Yes," Hotch curtly nods.

"He can still do his job, if you're wondering. That won't be affected. He just doesn't know anything about his personal life."

JJ clenches her jaw, annoyed that this woman only seems to care if he can perform his job or not. Emily notices and glances over at her sympathetically.

"Will he be able to recover?" Rossi asks the nurse.

"We're not sure yet...but we highly suggest having him come in on a regular basis for various types of therapy. You should also use extreme caution when deciding what you do or say around him."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

The whole day feels as though I'm in a daze. My head feels fuzzy and unclear. The feeling irritates me, as well as the doctors and nurses fussing over me.

_What happened? How did I get here?_ I suddenly realize I don't know anything. _It's like I switched bodies with someone and don't remember my life from that body. No, that's ridiculous; I'm a man of science,_ I dismiss myself. _Or maybe just woke up after a life-long sleep. Wait, maybe._..

"Have I been in a coma?" I ask the nearest nurse. She's fiddling with the machines next to my bed. Ever since I've woken up, my doctor and a couple nurses have been caring for me.

"No," she continues without missing a beat.

"What's wrong with me?" I ask the doctor.

"You've been injured and you're in a hospital," he dismisses me without looking up from his clipboard.

"Who were those people that were here earlier?" I ask the nurse who pricks a needle in my arm and collects some blood.

"FBI agents," she dismisses me as well.

The fact that no one is giving me straight answers annoys me. I'm not sure why, but my entire body aches, especially my head, and they won't even tell me what happened.

I lay here for a while more, trying to push down my impatience as they perform various tests on me. Eventually, I can no longer contain it. "Somebody better tell me something useful soon or I'm no longer cooperating."

The doctors freeze and send each other anxious glances, deciding whether to ignore me again or tell me everything. It better be the latter.

Their decision is one I do not agree with at all. _Why won't anyone tell me anything? What did I get myself into?_

_**Author's note: Okay, before I get any, 'that's not true...' with the amnesia stuff coming up, first, you must know I am fourteen. I'm not a doctor. Everything I know is from .org. We've never been over this in school (I'm a freshman). I don't know anyone who's ever had amnesia and I'm doing my best. Oh, and I've probably been in a hospital like twice, when I was really little, so I don't know how they treat their patients. Plus this fanfic is just for fun. So please keep this is mind when you read, okay? :)**_


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: This is going to be somewhat long, I warn you. It's a few things I need to say that you don't have to read (I would love it if you could at least read the first paragraph, though)._

_Again, I am going to stress the fact that this fan fiction is solely for my enjoyment (of writing) and your enjoyment of reading (though this may not be such a happy story). I am FOURTEEN. I do not have any personal experience with this stuff at all and I am doing my best. I've barely been in a hospital and I've never met anyone who has ever had amnesia. The show itself is dramatized sometimes, so of course my imagination is going to get the best of me, but I'm realistic in doing so. It's not like I wrote that unicorns burst through the doors, with a swarm of butterflies trailing behind, to save Reid. So PLEASE, if you're going to criticize anything, let it be something actually important to the story, like maybe what the main characters are saying, you don't picture them actually saying. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. I mean, I JUST said this last chapter..._

_**Oh, and another thing you should know is that if you see any tense errors, it's because I'm trying to get used to writing in a tense I don't usually use (to help myself improve, you know?), so I may subconsciously switch back to past tense. I try not to, though, trust me.**_

_**I thank those of you who are being considerate and complimenting how I'm writing this story. Thank you so much for understanding. :)**_

_**If you read all that, I applaud you.**_

_Amnesia...? But...how? _I try to remember anything that could explain it, but again, nothing. Except for statistics. And profiling.

I had finally gotten some answers. My doctor didn't want me to know this sooner for fear I would 'panic'. Of course I would panic! Who wouldn't?

I asked how I could have attained dissociative amnesia, but the best I got for an answer is a head shake along with a, "We don't know. A truck driver saw you lying in a ditch on the side of the road and brought you in. That's all we know. But I'm going to take a good guess it's because of your severe head injury."

I hate the fact that I am clueless. It feels as though everyone else knows what happened except me…but, they don't actually know, only I do. It's a vicious circle in my thought process.

I am a small, naïve child again. But with the intelligence of an adult. It's frustrating, really.

It makes me feel helpless, lying in this bed all day doing nothing. The only thing I can do is think, and my thoughts consist mostly of confusion and irritation.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

_I'm crouched, waiting. The world is dark and silent. The moon is full, but doesn't provide much light. It doesn't matter; I've done this in worse lighting. Something is clutched in my hands. What is it? I don't know, I can't see. But it feels heavy. My skin brushes up against brick from the wall I'm hiding behind._

_Wait, someone's coming. I can hear footsteps. The echo of the stilettos is unmistakable. I tense. Waiting until the sound of her footsteps is as close as possible, I slowly stand up._

_She's still walking, clicking her heels on the pavement, unaware of my presence. Silently, I walk up behind her. She doesn't know I'm here...until I step in a small puddle I wasn't aware of and cause a small 'sploosh' sound. _

_I freeze, but she whips around. I've made a mistake, but I know she won't escape anyway, so I strike. Her scream is cut off by the sound of my weapon clashing into her skull. She immediately falls, but I'm not done here. I squat down and check for signs of life. The breathing is rasped, but it'll do._

_I know my pattern. I know my signature. The media loves it; I'm famous. The authorities just don't know who I am, or how to catch me. I am invincible and in control. And I love it. Why? Because I'm one of the most notorious serial killers the nation has ever seen._

_Fresh blood from the result of my own hands gives me pride and happiness. The only other thing I love more is the fear that could be clearly shown in one's eyes. The fact that I didn't get to milk the fear out of her longer is depressing, but there's still time for that, once she comes to._

_The sight of her unconscious body, barely alive, puts a smile on my face._

__I awake in a fit of heavy panting and wriggling around in my bed. After a few moments, I stop myself, glad no one saw me.

_Was that...a memory?_ The thought scares me. _I can't be a serial killer! I don't enjoy others' suffering! Or..uh...At least I think I don't._

I calm down, still convincing myself I'm not a monster.

_I know my name, but I don't know my family or friends...do I _really_ know myself?_

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

The team found it easier to concentrate on the case knowing that Reid is safe, but you can't completely focus on something, knowing you might have lost someone. Not in the literal life or death sense, but in the way that someone's personality has changed, or vanished.

They were looking through the files on the Daley case when there was a knock at the door. Detective LaRoe opened it and stuck his head inside. The profilers lifted their heads, curious what he had to say.

"Daley's here." That's all they needed to hear in order to make them rush out the door, following the detective.

John Daley looks surprisingly calm sitting in an interrogation room with his hand cuffed beneath the table, staring at the one-sided mirror, because he knows the profilers are on the other side of it.

"How's Spencer doing?" Daley casually calls the question, as if asking an old friend about another friend.

The question was enough to make Morgan storm towards the door leading into the interrogation room.

"Morgan, we are going to stay here a while and make him sweat," Hotch sternly called after him.

"I'm sorry, Hotch, but I have to do this." The comment was made after he spun around, looking his superior right in the eyes.

Hotch doesn't say anything, but Morgan knows he understands and will let him.

He opens and closes the door as calmly as he can before leaning up against it, arms crossed, his jaw clenched and his eyes hostile.

"Ah, Derek." Daley studies Morgan, looking for a reaction to the use of his first name. "I'm a bit mad at you, you know."

"And why is that?" He doesn't bother hiding the icy tone in his voice.

"You missed my party, of course! It was my birthday! I can't believe you didn't bother to show up," Daley shakes his head. He pauses before adding, "At least Spencer had the decency to come."

Morgan stomps over to Daley, fists ready. It takes everything he has, but he stops himself.

"Oooh, looks like I struck a nerve," Daley sings with a smile, enjoying his opponent's reactions.

"Why did you turn yourself in?"

LaRoe told them Daley strolled right into the station, acting as though he owned the place, and announced, "You looking for me?"

Daley shrugs. "Eh, I got bored. I was too good for even the FBI's profilers, and figured I wouldn't get caught anytime soon, so I decided to come in. At least then I could scold you all for declining my invitation."

His 'invitation' had been a piece of paper he left at a crime scene with, "A celebration is yet to come! So close, yet so far away! I can't wait, you all better be there for the party! Later, John," scrawled on it with red ink.

"Aren't you a little old to be having birthday parties that don't involve alcohol?" is Morgan's only reply.

Daley held his gaze as he said, "I'm making up for lost years."

The rest of the interrogation continued similarly, until Daley decided to bring up the subject of Reid again.

"Did you hear from Spencer yet? What'd he think of my party?" He sounded like a little kid asking for his parents' opinion on a picture he drew.

_Why is he so obsessed with this 'party'? _"He's fine," the lie comes naturally to Morgan.

The corners of Daley's mouth twitch upward. "You sure? 'Cause when I left him, he didn't look fine."

Morgan's gaze hardens, refusing to show any emotion, which makes Daley laugh. "He was practically dead when I left him; shallow breathing and cooling temperature."

Despite how much he wants to reach over and turn his face into an unrecognizable pathetic lump, Morgan doesn't move an inch. "He's _fine,_" he repeats.

"Hmm, well, there's that nasty head injury I left him with," Daley's eyes dart up, a sign of remembrance. "Oh, how he begged for me not to do that," he laughs. "We also had a little talk, I may have electrocuted him a bit, and I dumped him in that ditch." He recalls the events as casually as though he were describing himself drinking a glass of water.

Morgan glares at the man with pure hatred.

"If you're wondering why I would just drop him off in a ditch like that, it's because I knew he wouldn't be able to tell you anything. The first time I hit him, it almost damaged him as bad, but not quite. So I just worsened the injury," Daley smirks. "I knew if I just kept trying, I would hit him hard enough so that he couldn't remember anything."

"If you think you're gonna get away with this, you son of a-"

"Have fun trying to fix _this_ one, Derek," Daley interrupts with a satisfied smile.


	10. Chapter 10

_**I consider all constructive criticism I get, but I'm a bit of a klutz and at the end of the day, it all comes down to: If you don't like my writing, that's fine, don't read. I must be doing **__**something **__**right for so many of you to like reading. *This is not a rant; I'm quite content, just being blunt.**_

_**I appreciate the support from you guys. :) I've tried writing a few stories before, but I always ended up losing interest in the plot and stopped halfway through. That's why I'm determined to finish this one.**_

_****_ _**I appreciate the support from you guys. :) I've tried writing a few stories before, but I always ended up losing interest in the plot and stopped halfway through. That's why I'm determined to finish this one. :)**_

_The shadows mask my presence perfectly. Crickets chirp all around me, but I'm so used to the noise, I don't notice. They have no idea I'm watching, waiting._

_The lights in the nice house are on, letting me see them clearly. Their friends are over, laughing and drinking. They appear to be saying their goodbyes now, though._

_I start to go around back; my shoes stepping on the grass is a small sound, but I hear it and try to focus on that._

_As the wealthy owners of the house see their friends off, I slip in through the back door. They don't even notice._

_I hide as they quickly put away the dishes they had used earlier._

_I lurk through their house, going up the stairs and hiding behind a door, waiting._

_I hear them mumble something, unknowing of what will come to them soon._

_They finally settle into bed. On the way to their bedroom, I pick up the telephone in the hallway._

_A woman picks up. "Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"_

_"I'm at 1527 Chestnut Drive," I nervously whisper._

_"I know where you're calling from, sir; what's your emergency?"_

_"He thinks they're too greedy...they have too much."_

_"Too much what?"_

_"Stuff...p-possessions, things they don't need."_

_"Are you calling because these people have too much stuff, sir?" The confusion in the woman's voice is obvious._

_I urgently need to tell her what's wrong before he catches me. "No, I'm calling because Raphael-"_

_He takes the phone out of my hands. "That's enough."_

_I whisper, "I don't want to..."_

_He speaks into the phone. "He's calling because Raphael is going to kill the sinners that live here."_

_The woman tries to remain calm, but her voice is dripping with panic. "I'm sorry, did you say somebody is _killing _someone?" She tries desperately to stop the killing, but neither us of respond. "Sir? Hello?"_

_We slice the sinners, ignoring her scream. Our job is done._

I wake up, panting and sweating. My heart races.

My nightmares have been haunting me. I think they're memories, which means I'm a monster. I can't know for sure, but I want to.

I open my eyes and recognize my hospital room.

"Hey, man, you alright?"

The voice makes me jump; I didn't know I wasn't alone. But I relax when I recognize the dark-skinned man from when I woke up here the first time.

"Uh, yeah, yeah...I'm fine," I lie. I don't want to share any of this until I know if it's true.

He narrows his eyes and looks into mine. "C'mon, Reid. I know you're lying."

"It was just a bad dream, that's all," I say as I sit up, using my elbows to prop myself up. I let out a soft, "Ow," as I move; my stomach and chest stings.

He looks at me curiously, hope flickering in his eyes. "About what?"

_Oh, you know, the usual stuff: murdering people and enjoying their pain. _"I forget."

His eyes soften, but his gaze never wavers. "You know you can tell me anything, Reid."

_Actually I don't._ "What's your name?" I can't stand not knowing any longer. If I am going to be talking to anyone who apparently is important to me, I want to know their name. "Oh, and everyone else's names, too."

The man's face shows disappointment, probably because I don't recognize him. "I'm Derek. Derek Morgan. We're best friends, man."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just glance down and bite the inside of my cheek.

He pulls out his cell phone and shows me pictures of himself and the other people, pointing to them and telling me their names, even a little about them.

When he is done, I thank him. It helps, knowing their names and a vague description of them. Well, maybe not vague. Each description was somewhat detailed, but there's always something you miss until you interact with that person.

Suddenly, the sore ache in my head changes into a sharp pain. I shut my eyes and grip the left side of my head while instinctively clenching my teeth to try to redirect the pain there.

"What's wrong?" Morgan leans forward, alarmed.

I'm not sure if the pain is external or internal, but it hurts.

"My head hurts...can you come back later?"

"You sure? I can try to-"

"Please? It'll go away soon."

"Uh, yeah, sure." I hear his footsteps exit the room.

It lasts for a while longer before it dies away. When it's finally gone, relief washes over me.

_I feel so broken, weak, useless._

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Morgan enters the room his team is gathered in.

"How's Reid?" Emily asks when she notices him enter.

"He doesn't know who we are." Their faces all fell; Morgan just diminished any hope they had that the doctors were wrong. "But I told him who we were. I showed him pictures and gave him descriptions, and even told him a few stories. So at least he's comfortable talking to us now."

"Thank you," JJ mumbles, looking down, trying to distract herself.

Morgan nods before leaving the room to call Garcia.

She answers immediately again. "How's it going?" she asks hopefully.

Morgan tells her what he just told the rest of the team.

"That's nice of you to do," she quietly replies.

"I think he should at least know us," he says.

She is silent for a moment. "Maybe there's a cure, so we can get him back, a-"

"Garcia," Morgan sighs.

"What? We can at least try, can't we?" she whines.

"There are some ways to try to help him recover his memory, but they aren't cures."

"I know, but...can't we at least try them?"

"It's not up to us, Garcia. Ultimately it's his decision."


	11. Chapter 11

_**I know I haven't updated in three weeks. But I've been busy for about two weeks with family because of the holidays, and it's finally snowed so I'm skiing and snowboarding, plus my sister is always on the computer playing Roblox with our cousins. Ugh, it's so annoying. So, I guess I won't be able to update as much. But I still am determined to finish this fanfic. :)**_

_****_I take a deep breath and push the door open. I should've done this much sooner, but I couldn't face the fact that it actually happened.

Why have I been feeling so guilty? None of this was my fault any more than anyone else's. The only person to blame here is John Daley.

My heels clack on the tile as I walk up to the front desk and flash my badge.

"Hi, I'm Jennifer Jareau. I'm with the FBI." The last part almost sounds like a question.

"Oh, so you're here to see...?" The receptionist struggles to remember his name.

"Agent Reid, yes."

She points me off in the direction of his room and I leave with a muttered, "Thank you."

I pause before knocking on the door, bracing myself to not be shocked if he acts unnaturally.

I peek my head in tentatively. He is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Spence?" Maybe the nickname will jog something.

He jumps slightly. He must not have even noticed me enter.

"Sorry," I quickly say. I don't want to scare him any more than he probably already is.

"What? No, you - you didn't scare me," he licks his lips. He does that sometimes when he's nervous or uncomfortable.

"Can I sit down?" I don't want to just barge in.

"Take a seat," he gestures to the few chairs on his right side. The door is on his left. As he sits up, he cringes.

I sit down and try desperately to think of something to say.

"Jennifer, is it? We call you JJ, though, right?" he suddenly asks.

My head jerks up in surprise before I think; _Morgan must have told him that. He didn't just _remember _it. Don't be stupid._

"Um, yeah. JJ. I'm the only person who calls you 'Spence'," I smile.

"The _only _person? How do you know that?" he smiles.

I chuckle. "You said it. A few years ago, I overheard you and-" I cut myself off, not sure if I should explain.

"Who?" His smile fades, slight panic and curiosity flash in his eyes.

"I..." I gape, thinking about it before I decide to tell him who Gideon is.

"He just...left?" Spencer asks quietly after I tell him.

"Yes, but he left a note."

"Do you know what it said?"

"No," I shake my head. "The letter was addressed to you."

His response is thoughtful silence.

"I'm pretty sure you still have it," I offer.

His eyes focus on his blankets. "I don't even know where I live," he mutters.

"Spence, that's not your fault..." I softly say. "None of this is."

His eyes dart up towards me and he opens his mouth as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't.

It's silent for a long time before I get up and walk out the door, putting together the final pieces of my mental puzzle.

I don't miss a step as my determination diminishes my hesitance. I confidently walk into the room where the team is. "Call Diana."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Diana Reid, Spencer's mother, is the last piece to the puzzle in JJ's mind. She's his mother, that has to bring back something.

Of course there was hesitance coming from the rest of the team members. Diana is a schizophrenic who has been in a psychiatric hospital for years. No one has informed her of Spencer's current condition, who knows how she would react?

Oh, and she hates flying. Without Spencer's constant support on the flight, she will definitely be scared. She would be going straight from a few terrifying hours of flight, to, "Your only son was kidnapped and tortured again, but this time, he doesn't know who he is, or who anyone close to him is; not even you."

Even with those thoughts, JJ was convinced this would help. She seemed so positive, Hotch allowed it.

The jet would be arriving soon, and the team is on their way.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Diana shuffles toward them with scared body language, biting her nails nervously.

JJ immediately gets up, her motherly nature kicking in, eager to calm her. "Diana, hi. My name is Jennifer. I'm friends with Spencer. We met a while ago, do you remember me?" I smile warmly, trying to put her at ease.

She slowly lowers her hand. "What's going on? Why did you bring me here? And where's Spencer?"

"Right this way, Mrs. Reid. We'll explain later." JJ gestures over to the door.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"How could you let this happen?! You're the FBI!" Diana screams when the team is done explaining.

"We weren't there. The uns- uh, _criminal_ we were after is highly intelligent and meticulous," Emily explains.

Diana bites both her top and bottom lip. "I just don't understand how you could let this happen."

The team is silent. They have no response to give her. They've wondered the same thing themselves.

"And he's still out there?" she puts her head in her hands.

"No, we've already caught him," Rossi assures her.

Diana rubs her eyes and raises her head. "So why do you need me here?"

"We think if you talk to him, you could help him remember something." The way Emily says it almost makes it sound like a question.

Diana squeezes her hand with the other one, thinking. "You sure I would help?"

"It wouldn't hurt to try. Please, ma'am," Morgan pleads.

She plays with the hem on her long-sleeved shirt for at least five minutes before finally deciding, "Okay, I'll try."

_***I made up the fact that JJ overheard Reid and Gideon, so don't say that never happened. I know it didn't.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Just chatting to other fans here...People's Choice Award? Criminal Minds totally deserved it. Not hating on Castle, but I tried watching it once, and barely made it through the episode. I found it boring. So...what the heck? Sigh, whatever.**_

_**On a happier note, have you guys seen the preview for Zugzwang? Oh. My. Gosh. I won't be able to sleep until I watch that episode. I'm serious.**_

"Spencer?" A woman cautiously enters my hospital room.

I glance at the doorway and the woman standing inside it. There's something familiar about her short, blonde hair and blue eyes - and the tired bags under them. I don't recognize her, but she definitely seems familiar.

"Uh...hi," I awkwardly say, unsure how to address her.

She shuffles in the room and takes a seat next to me. She looks me up and down, then into my eyes sympathetically.

"My poor baby," she murmurs.

I try not to look completely confused or surprised, but I'm pretty sure that's exactly how I look. "What?"

She glances at the floor. "Oh, Spencer..."

I try to think of a response, but my mouth just gapes open, unable to.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" A tear slides down her cheek, immediately making me feel guilty.

"Don't cry...please don't cry," I quietly beg.

She hangs her head, crying.

"Please..."

Suddenly her head snaps up, along with the rest of her body, walking around the room aimlessly, occasionally hitting herself. "I knew this job was a bad idea! I _knew _it! But I still let you do it. How could I do that? Why would I do that to you? I knew it was dangerous, but I still let you do it! How could I be so _stupid!?_" She repeatedly smacks herself in the face, forcing me to jump up.

I stop her hands from hitting herself again, and she struggles, but I try to calm her down. "Stop hurting yourself!" She tries thrashing around.

After she calms down a little, I loosen my grip. _Something about this seems familiar. Her acting out and me calming her, at least. It feels like I've done this countless times before. But I don't remember any instances._ She looks deep in my eyes, as though she can see something inside them.

"You're still in there," she whispers.

The tiles of the floor suddenly looks very interesting and I get back into my bed to distract myself slightly.

"I could read to you, just like I used to," she offers hopefully, pulling a book out of her purse.

"Did you want something?" That came off rude, but it's not like I even know her, but she's acting like I do.

"I am your _mother,_" she sternly warns.

I freeze and my jaw gapes. Looking at her, I would've never thought that. I assumed she was my aunt or something. "Mom?"

Her eyes light up and she smiles. "Yes..."

A sudden burst of pain jolts my head and I see a flash of blinding light. I shut my eyes tight, clench my jaw, and grip my head.

"Spencer!" My mom's panicked voice is barely audible to me. The world is spinning and noises are fading in and out. I think I see some figures enter the room, though. I can't make out the gargled voice near me.

Someone gently pushes me somewhere and I run into something. Next thing I know, I'm laying down. I feel so dizzy and confused. I try saying something, but I can't understand what I say, leading me to believe what I've said is, "Merfglorgrerpluup."

The chaos goes away, but everything is different. I'm not at a hospital anymore, and everything seems taller than normal. I look at my hands and am surprised to see they've shrunk. They're not as bony either.

Looking around, I realize I'm in a house. Curious, I walk into a room that appears to be a kitchen. I wander around a while until I hear soft breathing. A smile spreads across my face as I break into a run.

I jump onto the big bed, waking up my sleeping mom.

"Spencer?" she groggily asks.

"Mom, I'm bored. Will you do something with me?"

"Like what?" She uses her elbows to prop herself up.

"Will you read to me?" I smile wider.

She laughs. "Don't you ever go outside?"

"Please?"

"Of course." She reaches over the side of the bed and reveals a lengthy novel.

I lean up against her and read along as she reads aloud, just as we've done dozens of times before.

A feeling of warmth, content, and general love blooms inside me and I struggle to stay awake as her comforting voice lulls me to sleep.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

A nurse leads Diana Reid back to the waiting room, where the team waits hopefully. When they see her come, they stand up and wait for her.

"How'd it go?" JJ immediately asks her.

"I...uh...he...I'm sorry," she stutters, biting her nails nervously and looking down.

"He had a sudden severe migraine, so we brought her out," the nurse explains.

JJ thanks the nurse and leads Diana to the chairs in the waiting room, where they all sit down.

"Did he remember anything?" Emily asks carefully.

"He didn't say anything..." The team looks crestfallen. "But I saw it."

Hotch, Rossi, Emily, Derek, and JJ all exchange confused looks.

"What did you see?" Hotch slowly asks.

"In his eyes. His memories and personality. I saw him. I saw my Spencer."

_**I know that flashback is really similar to the one he had in Revelations. That's just to emphasize how often she read to him.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Sorry I didn't update sooner, my weekend was hectic. But Zugzwang...I'm still depressed about that. Sigh.**_

"He's still in there...somewhere..." Diana repeatedly murmurs to herself, seeming to ignore the team's presence.

"So all we have to do is try to help him remember. That's it then, simple as that," Morgan says.

"Morgan, it's not that easy. You know that," Hotch tells him.

"Before we decide anything, how about we ask him? Doesn't Reid get a say in this?" Emily objects.

"He should at least know his options," Rossi supports Emily.

Hotch looks between the two before deciding. "Alright. Let's talk to him about it."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"It's your choice, whatever you want to do," JJ says. They all look at me expectedly.

I'm not sure what to decide, though. There are quite a few options for helping me recover my memory, but they all sound like they take years to work. I want something to work as fast as possible.

"Uh...er...I..."

"You don't have to decide right now...we just thought you'd like the option to choose what happens."

"Can I sleep on it?" I awkwardly ask.

"Of course. Do you want us to leave?" Hotch asks.

I think I've got their names down, by the way. Jennifer Jareau (we call her 'JJ'), Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner (we call him 'Hotch'), David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Penelope Garcia. I haven't met her yet, though. Derek called her a 'flirt', and said if she says something flirty to me, she's joking.

"No, that's o..." I trail off as I notice someone entering. I recognize her.

"Penelope Garcia?" I ask the newcomer in surprise.

When Derek said she is 'original' in her choice of apparel, he meant it. Her hair is intricately teased, her dress is colorful and happy, and many bracelets decorate her wrists. Her outfit looks like it belongs on a child. Somehow it seems to suit her, though.

I glance back at the team, wondering if they knew she was coming. But all their faces are surprised, jaws slightly apart. Looking back at the woman, I notice how guilty she looks.

"I know you said I shouldn't come here, but I couldn't stand it any longer. You don't know what it's like. You guys go off all the time, risking your lives, and I can't do anything from inside my little cave. You don't know what it's like to hear some heartbreaking news, then be told not to do a d*mn thing about it! At least you're here, with him. I didn't even get to hear his voice, just to make sure." Her voice is mixed with pain and a tint of anger.

Derek looks between her and the teammates for a few moments. "Garcia..." It seems he's at a loss for words.

"Just let me stay. Please. I have my go bags and I've already checked into the hotel. I can do this job much better when I'm not having terrible images of any of your mangled bodies lying somewhere, all alone. I can handle this. Just let me talk to him a little," she fights back tears.

Hotch stares at her, thinking everything through.

_She really wants to stay here...maybe I can help._ "Are you Garcia? I've been dying to meet you," I smile.

Hotch glances at me before returning his eyes to Garcia. "Did you already set up your equipment at the station?"

"Yes."

"Good luck."

"Thanks, sir."

I actually did want to meet Garcia. Derek said she can cheer up anyone. I could really use that right now.

"Do you guys mind if Garcia and I talk...alone?" I remember we refer to everyone by their last name except Emily and JJ.

Once they're gone, Garcia smiles. "Thanks."

I smile back, laughing a little.

"So how you feelin'?"

"I've been better...I think," I laugh.

She laughs, too, but her laugh has a hint of sadness to it. "You're going to get over this soon, just like you always overcome your problems."

I look down guiltily and don't look up when I say, "I feel like a burden to you all. Worrying you for nothing. You guys should just forget about me and catch this guy."

I glance up to see Garcia's surprised expression. "We've already caught him. No one told you?"

"No," I shake my head.

"He even confessed," she lightens up a bit.

"That's great," I say, lost in thought.

"What's that big brain of yours thinking?"

"I...I want to talk to him," I blurt out.

Her light-hearted expression quickly turns horrified. "Reid, no! I won't let you. You don't know what he -"

"Is that so?" I snap. "Because I have a feeling I know perfectly well what he's capable of."

Her eyes water, but the tears never spill out. _I feel bad now...Is all I can do just hurt people?_ "I didn't mean it like that..."

"I...just...um..." I scramble to search for the right words. Now _I'm _the one trying not to cry. "Can you please just go?" I eventually manage. _I'm tired of hurting people._

"I'm sorry, I really a-"

"It's not you. I just have a headache. I should sleep." _At least in dreams I can wake up from the nightmare...can't I?_

I hear her heels slowly clack on the tiles until I hear the door softly shut.

Once I'm sure I'm alone, I let a few tears escape their prison, bringing with it the sobs that rack my body. I cry silently, but inside I'm screaming.

_You can't do anything right! Not your job, not talking to your friends, and especially not protecting yourself. Now everyone is distracted from this killer to deal with you. Instead of doing something about him, they've been here, listening to your whining and complaining. Now look, you've hurt them, too._

_You were a monster before and you're a monster still. Why do you still stay here? What is there here to gain from? Nothing. You're doing nothing except sitting in your own self-pity and smothering everyone else in it, too._

_What do you even have to live for anymore? You can't remember a thing, anyway. It's not like you even have a life anymore. You're just a pathetic waste of space._

__~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

I wake up in a dark room, my arms handcuffed to a chair and my legs tied to it. This feels like deja vu somehow.

"Morning, Sunshine," a growls comes from the shadows.

"Who's there?" I yell out weakly. I suddenly feel drained of all energy.

A figure steps into the small rectangle of moonlight coming from the window. I don't recognize his face, but I instantly feel hatred for him.

"You still remember _me_, though. Right, Spencer?" he teases with an evil smile.

"Who are you? Where are we? How did I get here?" I squirm. "And why am I tied up?" I ask all questions with hostility.

"Tsk, tsk. I'm ashamed of you, Spencer. How could you possibly forget me?" He uses that same mocking tone.

"Let me out of here," I growl.

"After all...I _am _the one who made you forget in the first place. You'd think you would remember who made you forget. Huh, that's irony for you."

He flashes a cocky, toothy smirk and the moonlight glints off his white teeth. It seems all too familiar.

Suddenly, everything comes back to me. The case, waking up here, the party, the teasing, taunting, arrogant b*stard, everything.

"You..." I whisper colder than ice.

"Ah, so you _do _remember," he smirks again.

I use all my strength to try to break free of the chains and claw his throat out. "_You son of a b*tch! Let me out so I can kill you!_"

"Oh, Spencer, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Actually, it's not enough." There is no doubt about it. I want him dead more than anything in the world. "You deserve to die slowly and painfully, just like those people you killed. You deserve to be treated worse than trash. And I promise, I will make sure that happens, one way or another."


	14. Chapter 14

_**You guys sure do jump to conclusions a lot (reading the reviews on the last chapter).**_

_**Anyways, I just wanted to warn you all ahead of time that this fanfic might not be updated as regularly. I'm still going to finish it, trust me. But I've started writing another book (it isn't a fanfic so it's not on my FanFiction account, it's on my Wattpad account), so I'm trying to update them both.**_

_**But hey, when I'm not updating this, you could read my other story. ;)**_

_**Oh, and I want to thank you all for 1,000 reads for this story on Wattpad, and almost 15,000 on ! I read all your comments (85+ total) and I love the positive feedback (votes/favorites/comments)! Thank you all! :)**_

"Who would've known little Spencer Reid could have so much anger?" Daley laughs.

"Daley, I swear. I will kill you," I hiss with as much fury as possible.

This just makes him laugh even more. "Oh, is that so?"

"Nothing in the world will keep from it," I promise.

He leans down, his face right in front of mine. "Then come get me," he whispers.

In less than a second, I'm back in my hospital room, lying in bed, shaking angrily.

_It was a dream. Just a dream. But, I remember. I _do _remember. Daley. John Daley. He did this to me. And I will get my revenge._

I rip the blankets off of me determinedly and start searching the room. _My clothes, where are my clothes?_

I rummage through every hiding spot possible, but the only thing I find are my old clothes. They've been cleaned, but the blood left stains all over them. If I plan on sneaking out of here, I can't just stroll out with blood all over my shirt.

_Wait, what am I doing? I can't sneak out. What would I do anyway? Go to the police station, walk past officers, to a serial killer under intense surveillance, and kill him? Yeah, that'll work._

I stop in my tracks. _Oh my gosh...I want to kill him. I want to _murder _a_ man.

I sit on my bed and put my head in my hands, thinking.

_I was ready to murder someone. And I was okay with it._ _I was right, I'm a monster._

I have to get out of here. But first I need new clothes. Who would usually do this stuff? JJ, I guess? If she visits today, I'll have to ask her.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

I haven't visited Reid alone yet, so I decided to slip away and do that today. He probably wouldn't be expecting me, though.

As I reach for the door to his room, I notice how awful my fingernails look. Bitten from stress.

"Reid? How you feelin'?" I peek my head in.

He pops his head in surprise. "Emily?"

I smile. "Didn't expect me, huh?"

"Lately the only people to visit me alone have been JJ, Morgan, and Garcia. Difference is nice," he smiles, too.

I imagine he'd love difference. For almost a week, it's just been eat and sleep for him, besides our frequent visits.

Before I sit down, I ask if I can get him anything.

His expression looks a bit awkward, and I'm guessing he's finally going to have a deep talk with someone, so I sit down. "What is it, Reid?"

"There _is_ something I want...But you don't have to get it if you don't want to," he bites his inner cheek and glances down.

I shake my head. "Anything."

"This is a bit weird, but...would you bring me some clothes? The only thing here is my blood-stained outfit and I hate wearing this gown." He finishes with a small laugh, which makes me giggle, too.

"Sure thing," I smile warmly.

"Thanks."

"So other than that, how are you?"

"I'm fine now."

My smile fades. "Reid...I know you're not. And I know how hard it is to talk to someone about this. But I mean it when I say that we all care and are here for you. And when you decide you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

He looks at his bed sheets. "I believe you."

I still don't believe he'll feel comfortable talking to any of us about this, though. "You know, you used to get really bad headaches. And you told me about them. I asked if you've told anyone, and you said, 'Just you'." He glances up at me before looking back down. "So you used to trust me, and I hope that you still do," I softly finish.

"I do," he says, barely audible.

I respond with silence, unable to think of anything else to say. Eventually I say, "I'm gonna go get your clothes. You don't want anything else from your apartment?"

He shakes his head, and I realize it's probably because he doesn't even know what's inside his apartment. I scold myself for being so inconsiderate as I walk out the door.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

I know where Reid lives, but I've never been inside. I admit that I'm curious to see what a genius's living space looks like.

I use the key the landlord gave me and slowly open the door.

Despite the dark and depressing abandoned look, it also looks cozy in here. There's a brown leather couch sitting next to a coffee table that's placed on a huge red rug. Numerous pieces of framed artwork are hanging on the avocado green walls. My heels clack on the light colored wooden floor as I slowly look around.

Just as could be expected, there are about a hundred books in the bookshelf. I smile to myself.

_Now, where would he keep his clothes?_

I venture into a room and successfully find his bedroom. After my eyes adjust to the dark, I see a dresser and walk over to it.

Feeling awkward about going through his clothes, I check the bottom drawer first. Most people put their underwear in the higher shelves.

Luckily, I avoid meeting his underwear and manage to find some pants, a long sleeved shirt, and a sweater vest.

Looking in the second drawer, I'm relieved to find that he reserves it just for socks. _No unfortunate meetings with any undergarments today._

I gather the clothing and walk out of the apartment, still feeling sad that it just doesn't feel right in here without a happy genius.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

I feel great after I shower and change into some real clothes. Less pathetic.

My head still hurts, but now it's more of a sore ache. At least now I get a new bandage on it.

I still feel guilty about my attempted actions before. But I still feel I need to do something.

"Emily?" I say as I walk out of the bathroom, finally clean and dressed.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I could...talk to Daley?"

She tilts her head slightly and opens her mouth, glancing off to the side. "I don't think..."

"Please? I feel like I need this."

Emily looks conflicted, but her eyes show sympathy. "Alright...I'll coach you on the way there."

_**(Description of Reid's apartment thanks to the latest episode, "Magnum Opus"...what great timing, huh? By the way, seeing Reid in that episode was so depressing...)**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**I'm glad you all enjoy this story so far. I've had fun warping Reid into a half suicidal, half murderous, completely insane**__**character. Plus, I've always wanted to mold my own unsub! I'm proud of myself for writing this much so far; this is the most I've ever gotten into a story before I lost interest and give up. School has been really busy lately, but I'm still trying to write this, plus "Hashtag #Killer," and edit my stories, along with a few other people's (grammar mistakes, word flow, stuff like that). So if I update slowly, forgive me. :)**_

"No, absolutely not." Hotch's voice is firm.

"I coached him on the way here," Emily argues.

"Hotch. Please." Our eyes lock for a few moments. I can see his thoughts racing through his head.

There's a silence while he thinks about it. "Fine. Good luck," he gives in and opens the door for me to enter.

The rest of the team turn their heads at the sound of the door opening. When they realize the newcomer is me, their eyes pop in surprise.

I pause in the doorway, Emily and Hotch behind me, feeling self-conscious. "Hey..." I awkwardly clutch the strap to my leather messenger bag.

"Reid, what are you doing here?" Morgan looks completely caught off guard.

"I...I'm going to talk to Daley."

Anxious glances are exchanged between JJ and Garcia.

"He's been coached. And we're monitoring the conversation," Hotch says before anyone can object.

I glance back at Emily and she gestures me forward.

I take a deep breath and walk to move toward the door she gestured to on the other side of the room. It most likely leads to the observation room for the interrogation room.

As I pass him, Rossi gives a slight nod of encouragement.

Immediately after I walk into the room, the first thing I notice is the huge one-sided window and the man sitting on the other side on it.

At the sight of him, a million thoughts race through my mind. _I must control my emotions, just like Emily said._

He's just like I remember him. His hair is dark brown, short, and perfectly groomed. His eyes are a deep, emerald green. His biceps are toned, and his jaw is sharp. His skin has a natural slight tan. His right arm is resting on the desk and he's leaning back comfortingly, but looking obviously bored.

"Good luck, kid."

The voice makes me jump. I relax when I glance back and realize it's just Morgan. Unsure what to tell him, I simply nod in acknowledgment.

I pause when something crosses my mind. "If he already confessed, why is he still here?"

"He says there are more bodies that we didn't find, because the ones we did, he 'let' us." Morgan glares at the man on the other side of the window. _Note to self: never play mind games with Morgan unless you want to die._

I set my messenger bag on a nearby chair. The door easily swings open and I step out. As soon as Daley sees me, he sits up a little, not looking so bored anymore. A smile spreads across his lips. "Spencer!"

I sit down across from him, aware that the whole team is probably watching by now. "I need answers," I bluntly say with no trace of emotion.

"Anything for a friend," he winks.

I grit my teeth, but ignore the comment. "Why, Daley?"

"Please," he smiles, obviously enjoying teasing me. "Call me John."

"Okay, _John_, why?" My expression is hard.

"Why...?" he pretends not to know what I'm referring to.

"Why me? Why take _me_?" As far as I know, my expression is emotionless and hasn't changed this whole time.

Daley rolls his eyes. "I thought we went over this already."

Not wanting the team to know I remember, I say nothing. How would they react if they found out the only thing I remember from my life is this? That their apparent years of friendship meant nothing to me if I don't remember it, yet I remember memories that lasted a matter of hours?

I remember asking him the same question before, But I am _not _satisfied with his answer. There's got to be more than just, 'you couldn't defend yourself'.

"If you really need me to repeat myself...I choose you because you were easy prey. You're a weakling, Spencer."

_He's trying to make you squirm, don't react._

"Honestly, though, I originally had no intentions of taking you."

That caught my attention. "What?"

"You guys rudely burst into the house and interrupted my relaxing evening. I only wanted to go somewhere more peaceful. But when I saw an FBI agent alone in the living room, with his head in a book..._distracted_, well, I couldn't resist." He smirks.

I speechlessly glare at him, processing his words.

"It's true though, how I did my research. As soon as word got around you all were here, I dug up every piece of information I could." He looks up at the one-sided window. He knows the the team is back there, even though all he sees is a reflective black mirror. "Jack still not know how Haley died, Hotchner? Oh, and I'm curious, Rossi, what were Caroline's last words before those pills did their job?" He chuckles to himself.

I clench my fist under the table. _He's done having the upper hand._

I don't care what the team thinks, I'm using my memories. "You talk to Carol recently, John?" I growl.

"So you do remember." Daley's blunt statement has no emotion.

When Daley held me captive, he took every opportunity to tell me about his life. No one else had ever listened, and in his eyes, I would, and I could understand.

He had always been the scrawny little nerd as a kid, just like me. At school, he would frequently get excluded and beat up. At home, it was no different.

When his little brother was born, he felt he took all his mother's time and love. John had to remove the threat. So he did. He thought his brother would never be a problem for him again, but his mom knew what he had done and blamed him. She always reminded him how awful he was.

When he was a teenager, he had his first girlfriend. Her name was Carol, and she was, "so beautiful that she made rainbows look gray, her voice was so sweet, I could taste sugar when she spoke, and she was so caring and considerate, I felt I needed to always make her feel special."

He got a job and used the money he earned to buy her gifts. He told me that Carol was the only person who ever made him feel happy, and normal.

After three years of dating, Carol left him. She said she simply doesn't love him anymore. That, "the spark was gone." Daley was devastated. This experience made him shut off his emotions from everyone and everything that 'deceives' love toward him. "Love is nothing but a lie," Daley had told him.

A few years ago, he had tried to find Carol and see if she changed her mind. He desperately wanted to be happy and in love again.

It turned out that Carol had married a wealthy man named Mason and now they have two daughters. Their house is big, they have a huge yard, and a Golden Retriever.

Seeing how happy and perfect Carol's life seemed to turn out, while John was still struggling with his lost love, only made him more furious and depressed.

I'm surprised John went into such detail when he told me these things, but that's his fault. He took my memories away, so I'm going to use his against him.

"Yes, I remember."


	16. Chapter 16

_**Thanks for being patient with my slow updates, guys. They might be even slower now. Tax season has started, and my mom is an accountant, so she's constantly on the computer.**_

It's silent for a long time while we just stare at each other, waiting for the other to do or say something.

"I'm not the only one with an interesting past, right, _John_?" Now it's my turn to enjoy teasing him. I finally have the upper hand. And I'm enjoying every second of it.

He raises his chin slightly. "You think you know me? You know _nothing _ about me."

"I _did_ . But I _remembered_ , Daley." It feels so good to say that. _I remembered._

He clenches his jaw. "What do you remember, Spencer?"

I hold his gaze. "Everything."

His response is silence.

"I guess you're a bit deaf. I asked how Carol is doing."

"I don't know. Haven't talked to her recently," he says stiffly.

"You still miss her?" _If I just pick at him bit by bit..._

"No." The answer is blunt.

"Oh, come on. The love of your life? Of course you miss her."

"I _don't_ ," he growls.

"Ooh, did I strike a nerve there, Daley?" I smirk.

"Don't I get a lawyer or something?" he quickly changes the subject.

"Not until you tell us where the other bodies are."

"Oh, um, let's see...there are no other bodies." Now he's the one smirking again.

I stare at him, blinking silently, before I get up and I walk out of the room.

The team is in the observation room, and when I walk in, they're all speechless, staring at me, jaws gaping. I awkwardly pick up my messenger bag and give a nervous smile.

"You remember?" Emily breathes.

"Not exactly...I only remember what happened with Daley. Nothing else..." I trail off as I see their crestfallen expressions.

"I'm so sorry," Garcia whispers.

I look at her in confusion. "For what?"

"That you only remember..."

I shape my mouth in a small 'o' shape, but no sound comes out.

"At least he's starting to remember, though, right?" JJ says hopefully with a sad smile.

We all just look at each other for a few minutes, exchanging glances of different emotions.

I glance at Daley through the mirror. I still feel there needs to be justice here. I search my memory desperately.

Suddenly, a flashback runs through my mind. From when I was blacking in and out of consciousness before he dumped me in a ditch. He was dragging me into his car. I strain to see what the building he held me captive in looks like.

It appears to be some sort of garage or a small warehouse. I'm not sure. There's nothing else around it except trees. It's in complete isolation.

I remember what it looks like. Now, if I could only find out where it is.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"I know where that is!" LaRoe exclaims after I describe the building and surroundings to him. He spent his whole life here and knows the terrain well.

"Could you take us to it?" Hotch asks him.

"Sure. It's a warehouse, but it was abandoned a few years ago. And judging by your description of the inside, Daley's made some renovations," he mumbles as we file out the door.

It takes a while to arrive to our destination, giving me plenty of time to think. Thoughts of different emotions race through my head: guilt, fear, and anger.

"That's it," LaRoe says as we pull up to the warehouse.

"Reid, are you sure you're ready for this?" Hotch asks sympathetically.

I nod.

Once inside, I walk around silently, numb. Through a door, I see a room similar to one I was in. There must be quite a few torture rooms.

Entering yet another torture room, I'm surprised of what I find inside. "Guys, there's a body in here!" I yell. I race over to it. I'm even more surprised to find that it's still warm. "And she's got a pulse!"

The team races inside to investigate, while LaRoe demands an ambulance immediately.

Her breathing is rough; she's been hanging on to dear life for days. I'm amazed she's alive. Blood cakes her skin everywhere; there are deep gashes in her stomach and lots of bruises around her neck. Looks like she didn't die as Daley planned.

Her eyes flutter open in confusion from all the noise. Our eyes lock. Hers are filled terror and grief. Mine show sympathy and understanding. I know what she went through, and somehow, I know she knows, too.

"I won't let you die," I whisper.

Her eyes close slowly. But strangely, it's not from giving up, it's from trust.

The ambulance arrives and the EMT's rush her to a hospital.

There's only one door I didn't enter. One door I avoided. But I open it anyway, and walk inside. This is where Daley kept me.

I see the chair, with my handcuffs dangling from the arms. Signs of a struggle are carved in the arms from the handcuffs. I see the metal bat, tossed on the floor carelessly. But mostly, I see the huge blood stains on the floor and chair.

The rush of emotions hit me again. Unlike before, when they were all balanced evenly, two emotions stand out more than the others: fury and depression.

"Spence..." JJ breathes behind me. I turn around to see tears in her eyes.

Morgan, Hotch, Rossi, and Emily try not to show anything, but I can see the hurt and anger. A tear slips down Garcia's cheek.

I turn back around. All my memories take place here, and none of them are good.

I didn't want the team to see this. It's almost as though I don't want them to know any of this ever happened. Just pretend it never happened. Maybe because _I_ want to pretend this never happened.

But no matter what I do, say, or think, I will never be able to erase this from my memory. The one thing I remember, I wish I don't.

Suddenly, despite my fighting, tears fall out of my eyes. For the first time in my life, I openly cry in front of others.


	17. Chapter 17

"Can I...May I speak to her?" I ask the nurse in a hushed voice.

"She's doing much better. I suppose you could talk to her, but she has been slipping in and out of consciousness all day." She nervously looks over her shoulder, toward the hospital room.

"Okay, thank you," I murmur as I slowly walk into the room. I pause in the doorway, looking at her. She was badly beaten, and her skin is covered in cuts. I imagine her stomach wounds are bandaged. She will definitely have those scars the rest of her life, as a permanent reminder to what she went through.

"Natalie Woods?" I softly ask.

She stirs and turns her head toward me. Her eyes hold confusion.

"Uh, I'm the agent that found you. My name is Spencer Reid."

"Oh..." she trails off.

"So, um, how are you feeling?" The words come out slowly, carefully.

She glances down. I can see the light reflect in the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I know how you feel," I suddenly say.

Her heads whips up angrily, making me look at the floor with guilt.

"How can you say something like that? You have _no_ idea what I went through!" A tear slides down her cheek.

"Yes, I do!" The slight anger that escapes my voice surprises me.

Her mouth opens slightly in shock, but her eyes are still confused.

I look at the floor. My voice catches unexpectedly as I whisper, "Trust me, I do."

"Were you...?"

"Yes."

She glances downward. "I'm sorry."

"We caught him, though. And he confessed. He's never getting out of jail." It's bittersweet, but at least he won't be able to hurt anyone else.

When she doesn't respond, I walk over to her bed and sit down in the closest chair.

"So what damage did he do to you?" she softly asks.

"It doesn't really..." I trail off when I see her disbelieving expression. She's right; I can't just pretend it never happened. And there's no use hiding it from her. "Severe concussion, bad burns, and amnesia."

She places her hand on mine supportively. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

I look down. "You, too," I whisper.

The thoughtful silence stretches on. She's probably replaying everything in her head, just like I did. I vow to visit her as often as possible, to try to take her mind off of it.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Hey, where have ya been, Spence?" JJ asks when I walk into the room. I can hear the forced fake happiness; that tone of sympathy is still in her voice.

"At the hospital," I quickly say.

Morgan raises one eyebrow questioningly.

"Visiting Natalie."

"I don't mean to baby you or anything, but don't you think that's not such a great idea?" Emily asks carefully.

"Why not?"

"Well, Spence, she was also put through a lot..." JJ chimes in.

"What's your point?" I ask coldly.

"She could...you know..." Morgan struggles to finish.

"What? Remind me of it? Oh, thanks for warning me, I almost completely forgot!" I snap.

"That's not what we-"

"Well, I actually _enjoy_ talking to her. _She_ understands."

They awkwardly look anywhere but me. I don't know why I thought coming back here would be a good idea. They're no help at all.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

I slam the door to my apartment angrily. Not sure what to do, I lean up against the door, tilt my head back, close my eyes, and think.

I remember the first time I came inside. After the accident, that is. I had asked Emily to drive me to my apartment and show me inside. She agreed without hesitation.

I walked inside first. I was a little surprised at my own decorating choices; most things seemed almost antique.

On the bright side, I learned a little bit about myself. It's obvious that I like to read; there are dozens of books everywhere. I also enjoy having everything neat and organized. Overall, my apartment feels cozy.

I smile at the memory. I love having happy memories. I miss myself. I want my memories back.

I walk over to the coffee table and pick up the piece of paper sitting on top of it. It lists all possible therapies that might help me regain my memory. But most of the choices don't sound very effective.

One sticks out, though. It sounds effective, and fast. This is exactly what I need. I hope it works.

I walk across the room and pick up the phone. Glancing at the number on the bottom of the paper, I dial.

"Hi, Doctor Louis? It's Spencer Reid...Um, I'd like to try one of those therapies." I pause to let him talk before answering, "Hypnosis."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Doctor Louis asks me the eighth time.

"Positive," I reassure him.

"Okay," he sighs. "Right in here." He opens the door and leads me inside.

Immediately, I notice a woman sitting on the only couch in the small room.

"Hi, you must be Doctor Reid," she gets up and walks across the room to shake my hand.

"Doctor Elise, nice to meet you," I shake her hand.

"Well, I better go," Doctor Louis announces before turning his attention to me. "Good luck," he gives a small smile and walks out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

"Before we get started, I must warn you that not everything you experience is a memory."

"I understand."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Okay, so you're just going to lay down here and I'll walk you through it." She pats the couch, gesturing for me to lay down.

After I get comfortable, I close my eyes.

"Due to...well...if you feel uncomfortable at all, just squeeze my hand." I barely notice her grabbing my hand before I drift to sleep.

_***The hypnosis scenes are going to be kind of similar to those from that episode where he was put under hypnosis to remember stuff from his childhood. This is because I know absolutely nothing about the experience of being hypnotized and Google didn't help much.**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Someone asked about the doctors being called by their first names. Those are actually their last names, I just suck at coming up with names...**_

_**And, someone also said they liked the celebrity name. Honestly, I had no idea there was a celebrity named Natalie Woods. I don't pay attention much to celebrities. The Natalie in this story, though, looks nothing like the celebrity, so try not to imagine her when you're reading, lol.**_

_**(Ignore the typos, but it's 2:30am and I haven't updated in weeks so I'll edit later)**_

_****_ Everything is pitch black. I look around in confusion, straining my eyes. _What's going on? Where am I?_

"Looking for me?" The deep snarl echoes around me and the familiar voice makes my skin tingle nervously.

I stiffen. "Daley?"

"Oh, Spencer. What did you think, that you could fall asleep and forget all about me?" He mocks me with a chuckle. "You will _never_ escape me. I'm part of you now."

He continues laughing at me, mocking me, as if I'm a naïve child. Sudden anger boils in my blood; the desire to rip his flesh apart overcomes me. Something inside me snaps.

I listen to the laughter carefully and lunge forward once I've pinpointed a location. His mockery is interrupted by his surprised gasp.

Sudden and unexpected strength wash over me and I pin him down. His muscles bulge from his struggle, but my anger fuels me.

I hold my gaze triumphantly and growl, "You think you've won, don't you? Think you broke me? That I'll drive myself into insanity? Think again." I lean down and whisper into his ear, "I'm already crazy. You just got rid of the only thing holding me back."

I lift my head up, making sure my face is right in his threateningly. I see genuine fear and vulnerability flash in his eyes. "And I want revenge."

"Spencer! Spencer!" I'm awoken by terrified screaming and rough shaking. My eyes jolt open to find Doctor Elise's small office. When I'm clearly awake, she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Wha-what happened?" I ask while sitting up.

"You were struggling and screaming, but you wouldn't wake up or answer me."

"Oh," I breathe, thankful I didn't say anything while I was under.

"Do you want to stop for the day...?" Concern fills her eyes.

"No, I'm good."

"Spencer." She takes my hand and looks at me in concern.

"I need to remember..." I quietly say.

She stares at me for a few more seconds, thinking about it. "Okay. Lay down."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"So how did hypnotherapy go?" Natalie asks.

"Good. I think I remembered something, actually." I smile, even though the memory wasn't too pleasant.

"That's great!" She exclaims as a smile spreads across her face.

"So how is everything going with you?"

"Doctor said I could go home in a few days."

"I'm happy for you," I smile genuinely this time.

"Yeah, I can't wait to get out of here. There's nothing to do," she laughs.

I discovered Natalie is one of those people who laugh at themself. It helps her cope with things, having an excuse to laugh. Being around her always relaxes me, and even helps me feel better.

She suffered more than any of the other victims because instead of having the escape the death, Natalie suffered for days. Her face, neck, and arms were badly bruised, and cuts covered her body. Two deep gashes scarred her stomach.

For the most part, those injuries healed. But she still has the deep bags under her eyes, surrounded by blue-purple skin. Some might say she looks like a living zombie, but I disagree. I think she's absolutely beautiful.

Her eyes are a wonder to look at; the color looks like someone blended glass with imperial blue turquoise gemstones. The light reflects off of them perfectly and makes the whole room sparkle and shine. Her eyes resemble shards of ice, yet they warm my soul.

Natalie has beach blonde hair, but she put highlights in them. I've never seen her natural hair, but I'm sure I would've loved it.

I already love everything about her.

I can't even begin to describe her. She's too amazing for words. But I love spending time with her.

"As soon as you're free, we should visit New York," I blurt out. She told me that she's visited New York once before, but only for a skiing trip.

She looks at me seriously, her smile has faded, and her head is tilted to one side slightly.

"Or we could go get some ice cream, or you don't even have to-" I quickly ramble, slightly embarrassed.

She smiles again. "No, I'd love to."

I smile in content, excited for our trip.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Someone looks happy," Morgan remarks when I walk in to the bureau office. He exchanges a knowing glance with JJ and they both smirk happily.

I look between them, trying to hide my blush. "What?"

"Pretty boy's got a girl," he sings before walking over to me and ruffling my hair.

I fix my hair and push him away before walking up the stairs to Hotch's office. They don't see my smile as I walk away.

I knock on the door and open it slightly.

"Reid?" I see Hotch's surprised voice through the crack. "Uh, come in."

I shut the door behind me and sit down.

"Yes?"

"I'm ready." I pause to second-guess myself before continuing. "To come back."

"Are you sure? It's only been-"

"I know, but..." I second-guess myself again. I thought I was sure of what I wanted, but I don't know anymore.

"Reid, you can take more time off to sort everything out. I think a demanding job is the last thing you need right now," he sympathetically says.

I open my mouth to speak, but think instead.

"I highly suggest you wait some more."

I glance down. "Actually, I'd like that." I stand and pick up my messenger bag, heading toward the door. "I'm so sorry to bother you."

"Reid, wait." I pause at the door and look back. "I know your thoughts are probably a mess right now, but if you ever need anything at all, I'll be there for you. We all will."

Then the rarest thing happens: Hotch smiles.


	19. Chapter 19

_**I wouldn't type this up here, but whoever wrote this 'review' was a guest, so I couldn't reply privately. I am fine with constructive criticism, but I will not tolerate plain rude messages. The 'review' addressed the last sentence of the last chapter, about Hotch smiling.**_

_**I never said he never smiled. I said he smiled rarely. It's just his character, he's the serious leader type. Besides, the whole thing is a joke inside our fandom, like physics magic. Thomas even made a joke about Hotch's non-smiling. Am I forcing you to read this? Good, then go away if you have a problem. I will write whatever the heck I want to, and you have no right to tell me to, "get over it."**_

_**This is MY book, coming from MY mind, using MY words. If you don't like that, then YOU "just get over it."**_

_**To everyone else, I apologize if you read that.**_

"Ready?"

"Yup, let's go!" Natalie exclaims as she hops into the passenger seat of the car.

At first, I was wary of having myself drive the whole time, but I've been doing okay, and Natalie promised she'd help me. She told me I had to start driving again sooner or later, so I should start now.

"You sure you want me to...?"

"Of course. I trust you, Spencer." She smiles, making my worrying vanish. I hide a small smile and pull out of her driveway.

The drive isn't too long, and we talk the whole way there. She tells me stories from her childhood, and I can tell she wants to know what I've remembered so far. I know she's just being patient, and knows I'll tell her when I'm ready.

_Maybe I'm ready to talk about it. Not about Daley, but everything else. I really want to tell her, but I..._

"I'm sure you had plenty of silly things from your childhood," she giggles. It's on the tip of her tongue, I can hear it. Her unspoken, "what have you remembered?"

"Well, I, uh, remembered when I played baseball when I was really young," I carefully say. That was probably the happiest memory I had.

"Oh, that sounds fun! I didn't know you were into sports."

I laugh. "I'm not. I mean, look at me!" I gesture to myself and my lack of muscles.

She gives a small laugh, but tilts her side to the side and reaches her arm out. She gives a few tentative squeezes on my biceps. "I dunno, I feel muscle there."

I can feel the heat rush to my face as it flushes. I race to think of how to change the subject. Without thinking, I blurt out, "I remembered something terrible, though." Of course, I had remembered a few unpleasant things, but I didn't want to share any of them.

Her faces instantly twists into a concerned expression. "What is it?"

"Uh..." I scramble to think of something.

"Spencer. You trust me, don't you?"

"No, it's not that," I quickly say. "it's just..."

"It could help," she quietly says, making me glance over. "To talk about it."

I think about it carefully, pull the car over. This isn't casual chatter.

"I'm not sure when it was...but I remember everything so vividly." I tell her everything I remember about Tobias Hankel.

By the time I'm finished, her eyes are watery, but she's silent, and just stares at me. I see a mix of concern, sympathy, and hurt in her eyes. _She's hurt for me?_

"Spencer, I had no idea..."

"Neither did I, until a few days ago..." I fight back tears at the horrible memory.

She wraps her arms around me, comforting me. She always knows how to make me feel better.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"So what do you want to do first?" I ask happily, having pushed everything from earlier in the back of my mind. "After all, this trip is for you." I smile, loving the blissful expression on her face.

"Well..." She opens the trunk and pulls out two full duffel bags. "I thought I could show you the wonders of snow," she says as she tosses a bag.

I give her a questioning look and open the bag, peeking inside. I give a dramatic sigh, even though I'm smiling. "Are you serious?"

She nods and gives a little hop.

"But I don't even know how-"

"I'll teach you! C'mon!"

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Natalie? Natalie! _Natalie!_"

"Spencer, relax. You're not even moving."

I look around in embarrassment. "Well, it _felt_ like I was moving," I mumble.

"We're on the bunny hill," she giggles as a toddler waddles past.

"These things aren't even safe," I mutter as I lose my balance.

She extends her hand down to me. "Skiing is fun and easy, once you know the basics. Here, I'll help you."

Once I'm back up, she shifts her skis into a triangle shape. "Do this. It's called a snow plow, it slows you down."

"I'm doing it!" I exclaim proudly.

"Great! Think you could ride a lift?"

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

"Sorry. I'm sorry," I repeat to the man operating the lift, brushing snow off myself. He stopped the lift so I could get up.

Once we get on the chair lift, I give a sheepish smile to Natalie. I can tell she's muffling giggles.

"What? It's more difficult than it looks," I defend myself.

"Sorry. You're just so cute," she says in between laughs.

"Cute? You mean like a kid?" I laugh.

Her laughing dies down, but her smile remains. "Kind of, yeah. I like it."

I fall again getting off the lift. But the view from the top is breathtaking.

"It's already sunset?" I ask in disappointment.

"No, don't worry. The sunsets are the best part. I'm just glad I'm spending it with you. We're going until they close; night skiing is awesome."

The soft tones of pink, purple, and orange light up her face beautifully. The mountains and trees frosted with snow decorate the distance. Being here, with her, surrounded by such beauty and bliss, and doing her favorite activity, I couldn't have asked for anything more.

"Today was perfect," I quietly say, unable to take my gaze away from her eyes.

She slowly closes her eyes and leans toward me. I have no control over my body; I close my eyes and lean in, too.

Our lips meet softly. There are no words for this except perfection.

_**Short chapter. I didn't feel like dragging everything out and pretty much repeating myself.  
Anyway...did ya like their date? Do you ship 'em? I do. I think after all the grief I put Reid through, he deserves to be happy for a bit. :3 So, Spencalie? Lol, I suck at coming up with couple names.**__**  
**__**Oh, and don't worry, I don't write make-out scenes. Sorry if you like that stuff. xD **__**  
**__**Just thought this chapter would be a nice break from the mood of the others. **_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Thanks for all the nice reviews and encouragement, guys. I'm planning on a few more chapters before I end this fanfic. Happy twentieth chapter to me, lol. :)**_

"Daley escaped." Hotch remains his composure, but the words kill me.

My mind slows down; I try desperately to think of something to say. "W-what? How?"

"Someone smuggled him civilian clothing, and he used a series of ruses to walk out. He was long gone before anyone realized he was missing."

My brain completely shuts down, processing what just happened. _The man who destroyed so many lives is free._

"We put road blocks up. We're searching every possible place he could be within a fifty mile radius, he couldn't have gotten far." He slowly stands up and walks out of the room.

I was finally starting to move on with my life. I accepted the fact that I couldn't and wouldn't avenge myself and the countless victims. I found happiness with Natalie. But having Daley back into my world shatters everything.

I slowly pick up my cell phone.

"Hey, what's up?" She answers with her signature happy and carefree tone.

"Natalie...Daley escaped."

Her silence makes my muscles stiffen. I hate seeing or hearing her upset, but it's better I tell her than the news reporters.

"Natalie? Please say something..." I whisper.

"I...uh...I don't know...what..." she struggles for words. I silently scold myself for telling her over the phone instead of in person.

"I just found out...The uh, the team is looking everywhere."

"Do...do you think he'll...?" She quietly asks.

"I...I have no idea. Let's hope not."

"Spencer?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Is it okay if...if I come over? I could use some company right now."

"Of course."

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

Despite the terrible situation we're in right now, I feel more calm and focused having Natalie around. Since the moment she knocked on my apartment door, we've been sitting in thoughtful silence.

She shifts a little before leaning over and resting her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her and she snuggles into my chest. I close my eyes and focus on this moment, trying to block everything else out.

I try to think about happy things, about Natalie things. Mostly about our first date, and our kiss.

I love being around Natalie even more because, unlike everyone else's presence, hers makes me feel comfortable. I can't recall a time I was ever self-conscious around her.

My mind clears, and new thoughts enter my mind. _What if he comes after us? What if he tries to hurt Natalie again?_

But I think I might know where he is. I search through my memories with him, recalling everything he said.

_"Spencer, do you know where Carol lives with _Mason_?" He spits the name with venom._

_I shake my head slowly._

_"They live in Williamsburg." He shakes his head and laughs angrily. "Williamsburg!"_

_"So?" I dare ask._

_He punches me across my jaw; a burning sensation immediately develops._

_"Virginia Beach is where Carol and I went for our only romantic getaway. We checked into a nearby hotel and spent a few days there."_

_I hold my tongue this time. Williamsburg is surrounding Virginia Beach._

_He raises his voice. "That _b*tch _is just rubbing it in!"_

_"Williamsb-" I cut myself off when his head whips up._

_"Don't even _try_to defend her! She'll_ _pay for everything she's done to me one day."_

My thoughts racing, already standing up and walking toward the door, I numbly say, "Natalie, I have to do something. Stay here and wait for me, okay?"

"Spencer! Wait, where are you going?" She stands up and follows me worriedly.

"I have to do something really quick. It's nothing, I'll be back soon." I shut the door and run down the stairs, racing to my car.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

I glance at my phone screen once again. I programmed Carol's address in the GPS. I found her through her Facebook page. Of course it was easy for Daley to find her, too.

I think I see her house approaching. Daley was probably on foot or had someone else drive him, because there are no cars in the driveway.

Unfortunately, I don't have my FBI credentials or gun. But I have an emergency revolver, and it's currently resting in the passenger seat.

I park down the street and slink along the scrubs, holding out my gun protectively, before I reach their door. I don't believe I've ever done this before, but I jut out my leg with all my force. To my surprise, the door swings open.

I inch inside, making sure he isn't inside, waiting to pounce on me. I open my mouth slightly, silencing my terrified, heavy breathing.

I feel the adrenaline racing throughout my body. My tense muscles twitch at every little creak of the floorboards or brush of clothing against the wall. Every second, I expect someone to jump out and hit or shoot me.

I turn the corner and immediately see an occupied living room.

Carol, Mason, and their daughters are tied up with rope in chairs taken from the dining room, just like I was. The two little girls have duct tape over their mouths, but tears are streaming from their eyes, and their faces are red and hot from crying.

Amidst all of this, John Daley has a gun pointed to Carol's forehead. I can tell she's trying to be strong for the sake of her daughters, but she is silently crying, eyes closed tight, waiting in agony.

"Now who is _he_?" Mason asks Daley boldly. I'm guessing Carol just explained to him who Daley is.

"Spencer, I wasn't expecting you," he smirks. I try not to shoot him right now at the sight of yet another one of his smirks.

"Put the gun down," I growl.

"How'd you find her?"

"Same way you did," I say dismissively.

He opens his mouth, his smirk widening slightly.

"Don't you dare say one word. You're done talking, Daley. It's my turn."

He slowly lowers his gun. "Okay, talk."

"You may _think _you've ruined my life. That I'd just give up and blame you for everything. That's where you made your fatal mistake. You underestimated me. I'm not the weak link. But, you know, I wouldn't have realized that without you."

Daley tilts his head. "How so?"

"Not having my memories, my personality, it taught me something: _revenge_. I want to avenge myself, Natalie, and all of your victims."

"Wait, Natalie? What's so special about Natalie? I treated her the same as everyone else," he suspiciously asks.

"Natalie survived, Daley," I triumphantly say, enjoying the defeat in his eyes. "You underestimated her, too."

His expression hardens. "So you've talked to her."

"Not only that - I've _kissed_her. Yeah, we've been dating. You know, I have to thank you for that, Daley. Without you, I would've never found true love." For once, I'm taunting him, and I'm enjoying every second of it.

He raises his gun and points it at me. "I can always finish off the job."

"No, Daley. You're not winning. Not this time." Before my mind can catch up, my finger presses down and the shot rings out throughout the neighborhood.

_**Lots of stuff happened in this chapter! What do you think? :D**__**  
**__Yes, I realize I'll probably get a ton of angry comments for having Reid shoot Daley...__****_

_Has anyone made any fan edits/quote edits/videos of this fanfic? I imagine some of you are creative and techno-handy like that, ha ha. :)__**  
**__I might make some myself soon. And when I do, I'll post them on the side of chapters on Wattpad, since it has that feature and FanFiction doesn't._


	21. Epilogue

"Hey, you okay?" Natalie asks me worriedly.

I realize I was lost in thought. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay..." I know she doesn't believe that. She knows me too well by now.

Truth is, a million thoughts are racing through my mind right now. One year ago today, I shot and killed John Daley.

I remember the terrible hours I spent with him, and the grief and hate that resulted. But I also remember that without him, I probably wouldn't have met Natalie.

We've helped each other cope and move on. And in the process, found love. It still amazes me how love can grow from the ashes of hate.

There were some legal issues about Daley's death. I claimed self-defense, but given the history between us, some people didn't believe me. Carol and Mason testified that I was defending myself, and if I had not shot him, they, along with their daughters, would be dead.

I know Daley was a monster. But I also know that killing someone is wrong. What scares me is that I don't regret it.

I've remembered so many things in hypnotherapy. I don't enjoy having the bad memories, but the bad comes with the good. I now appreciate the fact that I actually have memories.

I've accepted what has happened to me. Natalie and my friends have been a huge support in my life. I get the slightest sense that they are much more protective of me than they used to be. At first it annoyed me, but now I enjoy it. It shows how much they care about me.

Natalie's phone beeps and she looks down before standing up and gathering her things. "They just landed. I have to go pick them up."

"Okay, I'll clean up a little here."

Her parents flew here for the weekend. They want to spend time with Natalie and meet me. We wanted to wait until we were both ready before I met them.

During work, I'll often get flashbacks of what happened. They might not ever go away, but I need to move on with my life. I can't stay holed up in my apartment with Natalie forever.

I've realized something about myself I never did before Daley took me. Everyone looked at me as a weak bookworm. But I'm stronger than I thought.

I recovered. I didn't let him take the rest of my life. I found the good in this, and embraced it.

~~~~~ . : . ~~~~~

The brisk air carries a soft wind and whips my hair as I slowly walk, the healthy, green grass making no noise under my shoes. I shove my hands in my coat pockets and hunch my shoulders slightly, burying my neck in my overcoat.

I sit on the bench and absorb myself in thought. This place is peaceful, and the surrounding park is beautiful. I've come to think of today as the day it all finally ended. The day Daley fell marked the day people could stop fearing for their lives just by going outside; the day the families and victims could be at peace.

A memorial was set up for the victims, with their graves scattered around it. A giant stone carved into the shape of an angel stands proudly, "Hate leaves ugly scars; love leaves beautiful ones. - Mignon McLaughlin; In memory of the thirty-two victims that died from hatred," is carved into the pedestal.

I always think of that quote. The hate Daley had left many people with awful scars, but the love I share with Natalie that resulted of the hate is a beautiful thing.

I sit here for a while longer, in peaceful thought, loosing track of time.

"Rest in peace," I whisper.

**_It's short because it's the epilogue. Well, I guess that marks the end of this story. My first fanfiction is finished. If you have been reading since I uploaded the first chapter, six months ago, I thank you so much. I love all your guys' support and the comments on the last chapter made me so happy._**

**_Now that I've finished this, I will work on "Truth Or Die" (story on Wattpad). I MIGHT attempt another fanfic, but it probably won't be a Criminal Minds one (if anything, it'll be Psych)._**

**_You've been a wonderful audience and support group! See ya guys around. :)  
_**

**_UPDATE (May 22): I made some little edit things for these last two chapters, which are posted on Wattpad (same username, mzenun). Also, I'm currently planning out plots to a sequel/alternate ending of this fanfic (Reid turns unsub), a short story on bullying (including some of my own experiences), and a Smosh fanfic (that ISN'T Ianthony?! Wha?!). So, check Wattpad, where I am a lot more active! Okay guys, mwuah! That was supposed to be a kiss, by the way..._**


End file.
